


Be Simple Again

by prettylittlementirosa



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Future Fic, M/M, POV Derek Hale, Single Parent Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-15
Updated: 2015-09-14
Packaged: 2018-04-14 18:22:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 37,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4575009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettylittlementirosa/pseuds/prettylittlementirosa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek’s not sure if there’s a way to explain that he left because Beacon Hills didn’t need him, not when it had Scott and his pack; and that they were better off without him- an omega whose anchor was slipping.</p><p>Mostly he wonders if any of them really even noticed he was gone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this has been sitting untouched in my drafts since last November. It's mostly done- I've got about 30k already written. I just need the motivation to actually finish it so I figured I would start posting what I already have done in installments to give me the time and motivation to write the ending.
> 
> The premise: Future fic that's canon compliant through 3b except Allison doesn't die and instead of Derek being taken by Kate, he chooses to leave Beacon Hills. I kind of just wanted to explore the implications of both 3a and 3b and some of the lasting effects they would actually have on these characters. Basically Derek comes back to Beacon Hills after ten years to find that Stiles has grown into a /seemingly/ competent adult but Derek maybe starts to realize that him leaving didn't make things any better or easier for anybody else. Oh, and Stiles has a super cute kid. Like the cutest.
> 
> Oh and I'm just kind of pretending like Malia isn't a Hale, Peter just vanished into thin air, and Parrish isn't supernatural.
> 
> A few warning: Stiles isn't exactly in-character in this (though he's not exactly out-of-character either). Just- I know that. It's on purpose because 1.) it's a future fic and characters develop over time and 2.) I'm selfish and being self-indulgent. Also, this is Derek's perspective of him all grown-up. So there's that too.
> 
> Also, past relationships are mentioned/discussed/explained. If that's not your thing, you have been warned.
> 
> It's not Explicit yet but it will be so I'm just preemptively rating it that way.
> 
> I think that's it?? Oh, you can come say hi on [tumblr](http://pickasalvatore.tumblr.com/) if you'd like!
> 
> Ok. Hope you enjoy it!

Derek never thought he’d be back here. He’s standing in aisle number two of a CVS - one of only two in Beacon Hills - trying to decide if he should purchase a loofa to use with his Dove Men + Care body wash. He hates the cheap soap motels try to pass off as an amenity, like they’re doing you some kind of favor by covering your skin in a layer of filmy residue.

He doesn’t plan to be in Beacon Hills long, a week tops, but he doesn’t think he can handle the residue that long. He decides to go for the loofa, grabs a bright yellow one, and rounds the corner to head for the register when the sound of an all-too-familiar voice reaches his ears and stops him in his tracks.

Just picking up.

Derek hasn’t been back to Beacon Hills in over ten years, hasn’t spoken to anyone here in almost as long. He knew there was a possibility that he’d run into someone he used to know, but he figured the chances were slim, that everyone would’ve moved away by now. Or that he’d at least be able to avoid them.

He was wrong. Maybe he shouldn’t have picked two days before Thanksgiving when people tend to visit their families to come back.

He stands staring at the back of a head of messy brown hair, held up by broad shoulders. He’s trying to will himself to turn around, to walk away, to get the hell out of there before he’s caught and he has to talk to someone, tell them where he’s been, pretend to care where they’ve been, but he just can’t seem to move his feet.

The head turns around - after the person attached to it takes a small box from the pharmacist and thanks her - and Derek comes face-to-face with Stiles Stilinski. He looks older, tired, sort of worn, but there’s no mistaking those deceptively innocent-looking big brown eyes.

Derek’s steeling himself for the verbal onslaught he knows is sure to tumble out of Stiles’ mouth but what he hears instead is a much softer voice.

“May I please watch Tangled on the tee-bee, daddy?”

Derek looks down and notices for the first time that Stiles is not alone. There’s a small girl - only comes up to Stiles’ hip - with wavy dark brown hair and big brown eyes, looking up at Stiles earnestly, her tiny hand clasped tightly in his.

“Yes, you can watch Tangled when we get home,” Stiles says but he’s not looking at her. He’s looking at Derek.

Derek clears his throat. It’s unnerving the way Stiles still has the ability to challenge him with just a look after all these years. Or maybe it’s the fact that the little girl attached to Stiles’ hand just called him daddy that has him taken so aback.

“Derek,” Stiles says flatly. He sounds… unimpressed. Or apathetic, maybe. Derek’s not really sure what it is he’s hearing in Stiles’ voice but whatever it is, it’s not what he expected.

“Stiles,” Derek replies, trying to keep his tone just as flat, trying not to give away his shock at seeing Stiles with a kid. A polite, seemingly well-behaved kid with manners.

“You’re back. In Beacon Hills,” Stiles says but it sounds more like a question.

The girl is still standing there patiently, hand still clasped in Stiles’. Derek wonders for a second if that’s what Stiles was like when he was a kid, if the inability to sit still and not pull at every loose thread until it was unravelling is something he developed later.

He seriously doubts it.

“Just for a few days,” he replies.

Stiles nods, raises his free hand - the one holding the small box from the pharmacist - up to his forehead, squeezes his eyes shut. “Look, I’ve, uh, I’ve gotta go but it was good to see you, Derek. Take care of yourself.”

Then he’s gone and Derek’s left standing at the end cap between aisles one and two, holding a bright yellow loofa and a bottle of body wash, feeling vaguely disappointed about something he can’t quite put his finger on.

\---

After running into Stiles, Derek figures everyone in town probably knows he’s here. He wonders how long it’ll take for them to track him down, wonders if they even care to. Stiles didn’t seem to be too interested in Derek or his presence, especially not after Derek told him he was only in town for a few days. Maybe everyone in Beacon Hills has moved on. Maybe he’s not the only one who let go, who grew up.

Obviously, they’ve grown up. Stiles is a father and not a recent one either. The girl with him, the one calling him daddy, had to be at least four years old and Stiles was completely unfazed when she said it, which makes sense. He’s had time to process it. Derek hasn’t. He wonders what else has changed, what else he’s missed, wonders why he’s even thinking about it.

\---

The next day Derek goes to the preserve. It’s the reason he’s in town. Some guy named Gene tracked him down, said he wanted to buy the land from him. At first, Derek wasn’t even going to consider the offer - it’s Hale land - but when he mentioned it to Cora and she just shrugged, like she couldn’t care less, he started to think about it. Beacon Hills isn’t his home anymore. He left for ten years and never once thought about coming back. And it never really was Cora’s home. There’s not really a reason to hold on to it, outside of some warped sense of nostalgia for a town that never really wanted him in the first place.

Derek knows he should probably just let the land go, let someone else - someone who’s actually in Beacon Hills - have it and he’s thinking about it, really thinking about it. He’s in Beacon Hills to meet with the guy, see what he has to say, what he plans to do with it. Derek isn’t meeting with him for a few days but he wants to check out the preserve anyways, see if it’s changed as much as the people apparently have, or if it’s the one constant he can count on.

He finds himself standing in an empty lot where the house he grew up in used to be. It’s obviously been torn down for years. There’re weeds growing up out of the dirt. If he didn’t already know there used to be a house here, he’d never be able to tell there was ever anything here at all.

It doesn’t hurt as much as he thought it would. He’s relieved more than anything. It’s like someone took the decision to tear down the last of his family out of his hands completely, like he doesn’t have to feel the weight of the guilt.

It makes things easier.

Still, he finds himself laying down on his back, surrounded by over-grown weeds, staring up at the sky. He lays there like that until it feels like he’s actually become one of the weeds, growing out of the earth, reaching up for a sky that’ll never be within his grasp.

\---

It’s unusually cold in Beacon Hills for November and Derek finds himself wanting a hot drink. He doesn’t exactly want to risk walking down Main Street and running into another person he knows and has conveniently not spoken to in a decade but he talks himself into it with the spotty logic that it’s only four in the afternoon and anybody he knows living here should still be at work.

That’s how he finds himself face-to-face with Stiles, daughter-in-tow, for the second time in less than twenty-four hours. Stiles looks different today though. His hair is- well, it’s still a mess but it’s more of a put-together kind of mess, like he at least ran his fingers and some gel through it. He’s wearing a dark gray coat that actually fits, not the oversized SFSU sweatshirt he was wearing the day before at the drugstore. There’s a rosy tint to his cheeks, presumably from the chill in the air, and his lips look cherry red, a little shiny. There’re still shadows beneath his eyes but now Derek realizes what was so off about him yesterday- he looked more than just tired, he looked exhausted, like he could barely focus on anything that was happening, like it pained him to even try.

Today when his eyes land on Derek, there’s life in them, and a small smile playing at his lips.

“So it wasn’t a dream after all. Derek Hale, prodigal son, really has returned,” he says.

Derek isn’t sure how to respond to any of that - to the fact that Stiles thought maybe he dreamed he saw him, or that he referred to him as the “prodigal son,” or that he seems almost happy to see Derek, at least not angry - so he just says, “Stiles.”

Then comes the soft voice again. “Daddy, that’s the man from the store yesterday.” She’s tugging on Stiles’ hand as she says it, making sure he’s paying attention to her.

Stiles looks down at her. “Yes, it is, pun’kin. This is Derek. He’s one of daddy’s friends from a long time ago.”

Derek tries not to think about the complete lack of hesitation from Stiles when he uses the word “friends.”

Then, she’s holding out her tiny little hand - the one not clutching Stiles’- and, full of confidence, says, “Hi Derek. My name is Adalene but you can call me Addie cos you’re our friend.”

Derek- Derek doesn’t know what to do with that, still shocked at the sight of Stiles with a kid, a kid that isn’t climbing up walls and running around screaming her head off. After staring back at her for a second, he snaps out of it, kneels down so he’s eye-level with her, and takes her hand. “Hello Addie. It’s very nice to meet you.”

Addie beams and shakes his hand with what he can only assume is her firmest grip. Her hand isn’t big enough to grab more than a few of his fingers but she squeezes them tight. His heart does not melt, not even when he looks back up at Stiles and sees him hiding an amused grin behind the cup of coffee in his hand.

She releases Derek’s hand and tugs on Stiles’ again. “Daddy, can Derek get ice cream with us?”

Stiles raises his brows at her. “Nice try. Two points for creativity. Ten for cunning. Zero chance of spoiling your dinner with ice cream though.”

Addie sighs the longest suffering sigh Derek has ever heard come out of such a small person; and he moves to stand back up. He cannot handle those big brown eyes looking at him, making him want to argue with Stiles to just get her some damn ice cream.

“Maybe if you ask nicely, mommy will let you have some after dinner,” Stiles placates her.

Mommy. Of course, Addie has a mother. That’s how these things work. Derek doesn’t know why it didn’t occur to him yesterday to wonder who her mother is. Reflexively, Derek’s eyes travel down to Stiles’ left hand, where his long fingers are wrapped around the paper cup of coffee. No ring. Maybe they’re not together anymore.

When he looks back up at Stiles’ face, there’s a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“So, Derek,” Stiles says, schooling his expression back to something more neutral, “what brought you home?”

Derek wants to argue that Beacon Hills isn’t his home, not anymore, but he pushes the urge down. “Thinking about selling the land.”

“Huh,” Stiles says, looking a little disappointed. Derek hates that look, the one he so often saw on the faces of everyone he knew in Beacon Hills, the people he let down over and over again.

Before Stiles can ask any more questions and Derek can regret his decision to venture into the populated area of town for coffee even more, Addie yells, “Look, there’s mommy!”

Derek turns his head to see Allison Argent and Lydia Martin walking up behind him. That makes sense, he supposes. Stiles always did have a thing for Lydia and by the time Derek left Beacon Hills, he’s pretty sure Lydia was starting to return more than just some of Stiles’ feelings.

When they get within a few yards, Stiles lets go of Addie’s hand. She runs toward them, straight into the arms of-

Allison.

“Mommy! Look, we found daddy’s friend, Derek!” she tells Allison, full of excitement.

To say Derek is feeling dumbfounded would be an understatement. He can’t come up with any scenario in which Allison and Stiles have a child together but now that he thinks about it, Addie’s dark hair and dimples are more than a little familiar.

Lydia looks him up and down, assessing. “Derek Hale. Not bad,” she says.

“Hi, Derek. What are you doing here?” Allison says and looks to Stiles in question. It’s the kind of silent communication that happens between couples, and there’s definitely a ring on her finger. She has several rings on both hands actually. They probably just haven’t made it official yet.

“Derek’s thinking about selling the land,” Stiles answers for him.

Allison and Lydia both furrow their brows in unison, like they can’t think of any possible reason someone would want to sell their family’s land.

Well, it wouldn’t be a visit to Beacon Hills if he didn’t disappoint everyone he knows.

“How long are you in town for?” Allison asks. Addie is back on the ground, her hand now clasped in Allison’s.

“Just a few days,” Derek answers.

“Where are you staying?” Stiles asks.

“Motel 6.”

Lydia scrunches her nose.

“At least it’s not an abandoned train car,” Stiles muses because apparently he’s still a little shit.

“You should come stop by, catch up, if you have time,” Allison says. “We’re in the new building on Sixth and Maple, just stop by the front desk and they’ll send you up.”

Derek smiles politely. “Yeah, maybe.” He’s definitely not going to.

“Alright, well, I guess we should get going,” Stiles says to the girls, then looks at Derek. “It was good seeing you.”

“Bye, Derek,” Addie says with a smile, then reaches out to take Stiles’ hand so that she has one in both Allison’s and his. They’re the perfect little family.

A perfect little family if Derek lived in an alternate universe where the year he spent back in Beacon Hills didn’t actually happen, that is.

Allison and Lydia say goodbye and then they’re off. Derek watches them until they’re no longer visible. He’s so disoriented from what he just learned that he completely forgets about the coffee he came all the way into the middle of town for and goes back to the motel.

\---

He’s sitting in his room, rereading The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe for the dozenth time, when his phone starts buzzing. He looks at the screen- it’s a number he doesn’t recognize but the area code is local. It’s probably Gene calling about their meeting in two days.

He swipes his thumb across the screen to accept the call. “Hello.”

“Oh, wow, I didn’t think you’d actually pick up.”

Derek groans internally. He shouldn’t have answered.

“Stiles. How did you get my number?” Derek may have been a little flustered with the day’s events but he knows he didn’t give it to anyone.

“One day you’ll stop underestimating me,” Stiles says, with a sigh. Then, “I’m sure you realize that everyone knows you’re back now and that they expect you to be at dinner tomorrow.”

“I- That’s-,” Derek stutters, trying to come up with an excuse not to go.

Stiles cuts him off. “Yeah, Derek, listen, it’s Thanksgiving. I know you don’t have any plans and I may have saved you from having to answer a bunch of questions this afternoon but that’s only because I knew that once everyone else found out you were back, you’d be forced to show up at dinner tomorrow and answer them all anyways.”

“Stiles, I-,”

“You remember Chris Argent’s place, right? Be there at five.”

Click.

Derek seriously considers calling Stiles back, telling him that he can’t make it, thinks about just not showing up at all, but he knows there’s no point. If he doesn’t show up tomorrow, they’ll just find him at the motel. He might as well get the questions out of the way.

He spends the rest of the night trying and failing to not think about who “everyone” is these days and what it’s going to be like to see them all tomorrow, wonders if they’re going to ask him why he just left one day and didn’t come back.

He’s not sure if there’s a way to explain that he left because Beacon Hills didn’t need him, not when it had Scott and his pack; and that they were better off without him- an omega whose anchor was slipping.

Mostly he wonders if any of them really even noticed he was gone.

\---

Derek knocks on Chris Argent’s door at four fifty-nine exactly. There was no way he was going to show up to this dinner early and have to spend any more time talking to these people than absolutely necessary, but he was also raised with manners and showing up late is just rude.

Inside the apartment he can hear chatter - even pick out a few of the voices without focusing - Allison, the Sheriff, even Addie telling a story about some bunny named Hopper.

Scott is the one to open the door and Derek isn’t sure if he’s surprised to see Scott here or not given the situation with Allison and Stiles.

Scott looks happy though. He has that warm, inviting, lopsided smile he’s always had.

“Stiles said you’d show but I didn’t believe him,” Scott says, pulling him into a hug.

Derek isn’t really sure what to do so he just pats Scott on the back a few times until Scott releases him.

“Come in, come in,” Scott says and motions him inside, then closes the door. “Everyone’s in here.”

Scott leads him to the living room where a group of mostly familiar faces sit around a television, watching the Thanksgiving day football game.

Allison is sitting on the love seat with a girl Derek doesn’t recognize but can immediately tell is supernatural. He doesn’t think she’s a wolf but she’s definitely something.

On the couch is Kira. He’s actually kind of surprised to see her; he figured her parents would’ve moved her away after the nogitsune was dealt with. But she’s here, engrossed in the game and sitting next to that deputy that just showed up one day and apparently never left. Derek is pretty sure his name is Parrish.

On the other side of him is the Sheriff. He has Addie - in a child’s black and white suit, complete with a tie - in his lap.

Lydia is sitting in a chair, looking completely bored, drinking a glass of wine.

Stiles isn’t in here. Derek hears noise coming from what must be the kitchen though, figures that’s probably where he is.

Allison is the first person to notice Derek and Scott walk into the room.

“Derek, you came,” she says, the surprise evident in her voice, and everyone turns to look at him.

Addie squirms off of the Sheriff’s lap and runs over to him. “Derek! Do you like my tie?”

“That’s a very nice tie,” he says. “What’s the occasion?”

“It’s Thanksgiving,” she says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

For a second, Derek wonders if he’s underdressed in jeans and a sweater but everyone else is wearing pretty much the same thing. Addie is the only one wearing anything special.

“You look very fancy,” he tells her and she beams, then runs out of the room yelling, “Grandpa!”

Next thing he knows, the Sheriff is in front of him, offering his hand and saying, “Welcome home, son.”

Just like with Stiles, Derek wants to protest that this isn’t his home but instead he nods and takes the Sheriff’s hand. “Thanks.”

Addie comes back into the room, pulling Chris along behind her and Derek instinctively tenses. The last time he saw Chris they were working together - tentative allies - but he’s not sure if that truce still stands, hadn’t even thought about it until now.

Chris comes up to him, holds out his hand just like the Sheriff did, says, “Derek.”

Derek takes his hand. “Chris.”

“Welcome home,” he says. “Dinner won’t be ready for at least another hour so get comfortable.”

Then he’s heading back to what Derek assumes is the kitchen.

“You want something to drink?” Scott asks from where he’s still standing next to him.

“Uh, I’m fine, thanks,” Derek answers and then Kira is wrapping her arms around him, saying, “Welcome back.”

He doesn’t know why Kira is happy to see him. He barely knew her, barely spent any time with her, and maybe that’s it. She never really knew him, never had a chance to see just how destructive his presence could be. He never got to disappoint her.

When Kira lets go, he notices Isaac leaning against the wall a couple of feet away, his arms crossed in front of him. It’s a lot closer to the reaction Derek was expecting to get today.

“You’re really back,” Isaac says.

“Just for a few days,” Derek answers and then everyone else is bombarding him with questions, as Isaac sinks back to the kitchen.

“Stiles said you were going to sell the land?”

“Where are you living?”

“How’s Cora?”

“Where’d you go when you left?”

He answers them all as succinctly as possible, as he’s ushered into a chair next to Lydia.

“Thinking about it.”

“New York.”

“She’s doing well.”

“Spent some time in South America.”

The next half hour passes smoothly, mostly because everyone gets distracted by whatever it is that’s happening in the game that’s playing on the tv. Derek’s not really paying attention to it. He keeps checking his phone and glancing around the room, though he’s not really sure why until Lydia leans over and says, “Don’t worry. Stiles is coming.”

“I wasn’t-,” he starts to argue but the look on Lydia’s face says that yes, that’s exactly why he keeps checking his phone and, really, now that’s she said it, he realizes she’s right. He’s uncomfortable - at least more uncomfortable than he should be in this situation - and it’s because Stiles isn’t here and Derek doesn’t know where he is. Stiles is the one that invited him, he should be here.

No more than fifteen minutes later, Derek hears the front door open, followed by Stiles walking into the room. He looks tired again. Not as bad as he did at the drugstore but he definitely looks like he could use a nap. He’s wearing worn jeans and a black henley with the sleeves rolled up - one more so than the other - and his hair is a mess, like he’s been pulling at it. He looks like he was just making out in the backseat of a car. The thought does something weird to Derek’s stomach. He forces himself to focus on something else.

Like Stiles sneaking up behind Addie, where she’s sitting on the floor playing with some electronic learning toy. Stiles digs his fingers into her sides and she shrieks, causing Derek, Kira, and the girl that he’s learned is Malia - the werecoyote that was living in the preserve - to wince.

Addie starts laughing and Stiles picks her up, gives her a big kiss on the cheek.

“Hi, pun’kin. You were right. That suit is very pretty,” he says and Derek tells himself that the way her face lights up when he says it isn’t the most adorable thing he’s ever seen.

Stiles puts her down and sits on the arm of the couch right next to his dad. “Hey, pops.”

“You get everything done?” his dad asks.

Stiles scratches the back of his head. “Almost.”

He seems uncomfortable with the question but nobody else seems to notice.

“Good. Beer’s in the fridge,” the Sheriff says.

Stiles claps him on the shoulder, says, “Anybody else want one?”

Parrish raises his hand. “I’ll take another.”

“Me too,” Malia says.

“Derek?” Stiles asks, acknowledging his presence for the first time.

Derek shakes his head. “I’m good.”

Stiles nods, then heads to the kitchen where Chris, Isaac, and Scott are still cooking. Derek focuses his hearing and listens to them greet Stiles, followed by Scott explaining that Melissa took a double shift today so that she could have Christmas off. None of them say anything about Derek, like it’s normal to have him here with them on Thanksgiving, like it hasn’t been ten years since they’ve all been in the same place. He supposes today isn’t all that out of the ordinary for them. They’re probably used to gathering together like this. He’s the only one completely out of place.

There’s a moment of silence followed by Stiles saying, “Believe me, I know.”

Derek has no idea who he’s talking to or what it’s about but it doesn’t matter because then Stiles is walking back out and handing Parrish and Malia each a beer, before pulling up a chair and plopping down next to Derek.

“Nobody believed that I could get you here,” he whispers conspiratorially, which is ridiculous because half of the people in the apartment can hear him without even trying.

“You must have super powers,” Derek deadpans.

“Really? I thought it was my winning personality that got you here,” Stiles says and if it were anyone else, Derek would think he was flirting.

When Derek doesn’t respond, Stiles winks at him, then turns his attention to the television. He’s wearing a self-satisfied grin, like getting under Derek’s skin is still the highlight of his day. Derek wants to wipe it off his face but too many seconds have passed for him to say anything now. Besides, they’re too old to still be playing this game.

It’s not long before Scott comes to tell them that dinner is ready. They all head into the dining room, where there’s a folding-table pushed to the end of the actual dining table, with enough seats to accommodate everyone. 

Derek ends up sitting between Scott and Kira and directly across from Addie, who’s in between her parents. He’s still having trouble grasping the idea that Stiles and Allison are together, that they have a child together and that nobody else seems to think it’s weird.

He passes the food around the table, scooping some onto his own plate, then digs in with everyone else. It’s good, definitely better than what he’d be eating if he stayed at the motel by himself.

Around him, everyone is making conversation but it’s not small talk, it’s the kind of conversation that happens with people who really know each other, who know the details of each other’s lives.

To his left, Kira and Parrish are debating the pros and cons of some new protocol- for what, Derek has no idea. Next to them, Malia is telling the sheriff that she has to go into work - wherever that is - after dinner, that it’ll be a busy night.

To Derek’s right, Isaac and Lydia are going over their schedules for the next few weeks, trying to figure out the best date for something. It sounds like they’re trying to plan a surprise for someone else. Derek isn’t really sure but he hears the name Danny come up a few times.

Across from him, Addie is looking at Scott and giggling. Derek assumes Scott is making faces at her while he eats.

Next to Addie, Stiles is just sort of pushing his food around the plate. When he sees Derek watching him, he says, “So I guess I missed the interrogation when you got here.”

“Derek went to South America. Now he lives in New York,” Scott says around a mouthful of food. “And we didn’t interrogate him.”

“What? Why not?” Stiles asks, full of mock incredulity. “I was only a few hours late and you guys still managed to mess this up.”

He turns to Addie. “Pun’kin, please tell me you at least asked Derek all kinds of invasive questions.”

She looks up at him, completely serious. “I asked him if he likes my tie.”

Stiles smiles, looking completely enamored by his daughter, and Derek doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to this- to Stiles being a father, to Stiles being a good father.

“And what did he say?” Stiles asks her.

“That I’m fancy.”

Stiles hums thoughtfully, like he’s considering it, then looks at Derek. “Good answer, Hale. Now, tell us something about yourself.”

Derek raises his eyebrows at Stiles. He can’t seriously think that Derek is just going to start talking about himself.

“What? Addie wants to know all about you, don’t you, pun’kin?” Stiles asks.

Before Addie can answer, Allison cuts in. “Please don’t use our daughter to guilt Derek into telling us about his life.”

For the first time in his life, Derek wants to hug her.

Stiles sighs. “Fine. At least tell me everything you already told everybody else before I got here.”

“Why were you late?” Derek asks instead of talking about himself.

“I had some last minute work pop up,” Stiles answers, shifting in his chair.

Derek is pretty sure he’s lying. He’s been cagey about what he was doing earlier today ever since he got here.

He focuses his hearing to the sound of Stiles’ heartbeat and asks, “What do you do?”

Stiles narrows his eyes at him, like he knows exactly what Derek is doing. “I work from home. I’m a strategy consultant.”

His heartbeat is steady, which makes sense. It’s not like he’s going to lie about what he does for a living, not in front of everybody else. Derek doesn’t know why he even cares that Stiles is lying in the first place. It’s really none of his business and it’s not like he’s going to be around long enough for it to matter anyways.

“He’s one of the best,” Allison tells Derek, like she’s bragging about him. Which, makes sense, seeing as he’s her fiancé.

“Yeah, he owns his own company and everything,” Scott adds.

“Thanks, guys,” Stiles says, “but, uh, let’s focus on Derek.”

Derek tells him everything he already told everybody else, which isn’t much. He keeps his eyes on Stiles the entire time he’s talking. Stiles isn’t eating, still just moving the food around on his plate. He doesn’t look excessively thin though. If anything, he looks like he’s put on weight since Derek last saw him, like he’s filled out. His shoulders are broad. His henley actually looks like it’s stretching across them, not just hanging from them the way his clothes always did when he was in high school. And Derek can see the outline of his biceps through his sleeves. If this wasn’t Stiles - the kid that made his life unnecessarily difficult with his smart mouth and his incessant need to be in everybody’s business - but just some random guy Derek met in a bar, he’d probably be attracted to him, probably even buy him a drink.

Thinking about picking Stiles up in a bar probably isn’t a good idea though, especially not in front of Stiles’ family and friends, in front of his fiancee.

Luckily, everybody’s finished eating so he takes the opportunity to get away from Stiles and starts helping to clear the dishes. He brings them to the kitchen where Allison and Scott are rinsing them off, then loading them into the dishwasher.

The Sheriff, Parrish, and Malia all have to go into work. They say their goodbyes, then head out.

Derek wonders how long he has to stay before he can get away with leaving. He goes back into the living room where Isaac and Kira are sitting on the love seat, fighting over the remote.

He can hear Chris and Stiles talking in Chris’ office. Stiles is saying, “Don’t worry about it. We’re fine.”

Derek tunes out, sure that it’s none of his business.

Then Lydia and Addie come out of what he assumes is a bedroom. Addie has changed into pajamas. She looks around the room and says, “Where’s daddy?”

Stiles emerges from Chris’ office. “I’m right here, pun’kin.”

He walks over to the couch and plops down, then pats the space next to him. She follows him and climbs up on the couch, her little legs stretched out in front of her, then says, “Derek, you can sit next to me.”

She’s looking at him expectantly, and next to her Stiles is wearing the same expression, though his is far more amused than sincere. Addie may have Allison’s hair and dimples, but her eyes are all Stiles. It’s unfair how cute she is, really. Derek wonders how anybody manages to say no to her.

But he’s not about to try so he takes the seat next to her.

Isaac or Kira - whoever got ahold of the remote - puts on some movie starring Chevy Chase. Addie cuddles into Stiles’ side and is asleep within fifteen minutes. Chris hasn’t come back out of his office and Lydia has disappeared somewhere. Scott and Allison are still cleaning up in the kitchen.

Stiles’ arm is draped over Addie and his fingers are drumming out a rhythmic beat on the couch cushion next to Derek’s leg. It’s distracting. Derek can hear it booming in his ears and it’s sending vibrations along the couch and up his leg.

After a few minutes of it, he places his hand over Stiles’ with more force than is probably necessary and turns to glare at him, but Stiles is just wearing that same self-satisfied grin he had on earlier. He starts drumming his fingers again, albeit with far less rhythm, under Derek’s hand and just stares back at Derek, daring him to do something about it.

Derek rolls his eyes and says, “I’m getting a drink.”

As he’s standing, Stiles, a decibel too loud, says “Hey, have Scott make a pot of coffee.”

As soon as Derek walks into the kitchen, Allison and Scott jump apart from where they were standing far too close to each other by the sink. They’re wearing matching guilty expressions and Derek is pretty sure he just caught them doing something they weren’t supposed to be doing. In fact, he’s pretty sure he just caught Allison cheating on Stiles with his best friend, which is horrible but also makes Derek feel oddly more settled, like seeing Scott and Allison together helps him understand the world again.

Still, he’s not really sure how he’s supposed to react so he just says, “Stiles wanted coffee.”

Allison opens up a cupboard and pulls out a bag of coffee grounds. “On it.”

“Can I get you anything?” Scott asks him, sheepish.

Derek really only came in here to get away from Stiles and his annoying habits but now he kind of wishes he’d stuck it out. “I’ll take a beer,” he says, just to distract from the awkward tension in the room.

Scott opens the fridge and hands a can to Derek. Derek takes it with a nod and walks back to the living room.

He returns to the couch and says, “Allison is making coffee.”

Stiles nods. He looks like he’s trying not to laugh which makes this whole situation even worse. Stiles is out here, finding amusement in god knows what, completely clueless about what’s going on behind his back.

His hand is no longer drumming out a beat on the couch cushion. Now it’s resting on the back of the couch, right behind Derek’s shoulder. Derek is hyper-aware of it. He’s hyper-aware of everything Stiles right now.

He’s trying to act normal, act like the only reason he’s uncomfortable is because he doesn’t know any of these people anymore, except the problem is that he does know them. They may all look older and there may be facets of their lives he doesn’t know anything about but they’re still them. He can still see the kids they used to be in each and every one of them. They’re still the people he cared about once upon a time, even if he didn’t know how to show it. He still wants to turn around and go back into the kitchen, give Scott and Allison a lecture, tell them they should do what makes them happy, just be honest about it. He still wants to protect Stiles from the pain of a broken heart. He still wants to find a way to apologize to Isaac for abandoning him.

And maybe that’s the reason he never came back. Maybe deep down he’s always known that these people are never truly going to be strangers to him. Maybe it’s easier when he can pretend like he doesn’t care about them from thousands of miles away.

Allison and Scott come into the living room, sans coffee, and when Allison sees Addie asleep, she leans down to Stiles, her hand on his shoulder, and asks, “Should we go?”

Something about it, the casual intimacy after what she was just doing with his best friend, rubs Derek the wrong way, makes him kind of angry. Neither Allison, nor Scott are having any trouble looking at Stiles or even talking to him, like this is something they do all the time. They had a harder time looking at Derek in the kitchen than they’re having with Stiles right now. It grates at him.

Stiles, of course, is completely unaware. “Yeah probably, did you drive?” he asks her, then stands up carefully, making sure not to jostle Addie.

Allison shakes her head. “Lydia picked us up.”

Scott and Kira both decide to head out too, which means there’s really no reason for Derek to stay any longer either.

As Allison is gathering Addie’s things, Stiles scoops her up into his arms, practiced, and she wraps her little body around him and buries her face in his neck instinctively.

At least Stiles will always have her love, Derek thinks.

Allison hands Stiles the coat he was wearing yesterday and he wraps it around Addie. Then they all head downstairs together, leaving Isaac alone in the living room, watching the movie. In the elevator, they all send Derek a text message, so that he has their numbers and no excuse not to call; and in the parking lot, they say their goodbyes, then head to their cars. Derek watches Stiles buckle Addie into the backseat of a sedan while Allison takes the front passenger seat, before getting in and driving away.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am 99.9% sure this is not how ownership of a preserve works but for the sake of fic and me being lazy and doing zero research, let’s just pretend like it is.
> 
> Hope you're enjoying this so far!
> 
> Don't forget to come say hi on [tumblr!](http://pickasalvatore.tumblr.com/)

Derek’s still thinking about it - what he caught Scott and Allison doing in the kitchen - the next day. He knows he shouldn’t care, knows it’s really none of his business, but the betrayal he witnessed prickles at him. It’s not even that Allison was cheating on Stiles. It was the nonchalance of it. Apart from getting caught by Derek, there was no guilt on her face, or even on Scott’s. They went right back out to Stiles as if nothing had happened, as if everything was fine, as if they didn’t even feel bad about it.

Derek tries to ignore the feeling of uneasiness swimming in his gut. He just wants to meet with Gene today, make a decision about the land, and then hopefully be on a plane back to New York by the end of the weekend.

Unfortunately, just before noon, Gene calls and tells him that he’s stuck out of town and is going to have to reschedule. After Derek hangs up, he throws himself on the bed, hoping that he’ll be able to fall asleep, maybe just sleep through some of the day; but he’s wide awake. He has excess energy, if anything, and after about twenty minutes of staring up at the ceiling he pulls out his phone and sends Stiles a text.

(To Stiles) What are you doing?

The reply comes less than a minute later.

(From Stiles) Looking for an excuse to take a break. Mel’s Diner in 20?

Derek doesn’t really know what he was expecting Stiles to send back, isn’t really sure why he even texted him in the first place, but he doesn’t really have a reason to say no. He has nothing better to do and he wouldn’t mind some food.

(To Stiles) Ok.

He gets there before Stiles and gets them a table. The waiter is setting down two waters when Stiles walks in. He looks good today- a little tired like anyone with a young child would but not exhausted, not stressed. He slides into the booth across from Derek with a smile and says, “Miss me already?”

Derek rolls his eyes and seriously considers his judgement in texting Stiles instead of any of the handful of other people he knows in town.

“Where’s Addie?” he asks instead of taking the bait.

Stiles is looking at the menu which is really unnecessary. Derek’s pretty sure nothing on it has changed in at least fifteen years. In fact, he’s pretty sure they’re still using the exact same menus they were when he was living here.

“Scott took her and Allison to the zoo today before it closes for the winter,” Stiles says, then looks up. “Why? Were you just using me to see my unbelievably adorable kid?”

Derek ignores the question. “Scott took them?”

“Yeah. Scott’s the best person to go to the zoo with. He knows about all the animals and sometimes he’ll do the alpha eye thing and get them all riled up,” Stiles says, fond, like he’s picturing it.

It doesn’t help ease the feeling in Derek’s stomach. All he can manage to do in response is nod and then pretend to look at the menu.

Stiles keeps going. “Yeah, Scott’s awesome with Addie in general. He’s the best uncle - the best friend - anyone could ask for.”

Derek disagrees silently.

“He’s always around helping out with Addie, especially when I can’t be there.”

Derek isn’t sure he can sit here and listen to Stiles go on and on about how great Scott is much longer.

“I mean, I don’t know where I would be without him.”

Derek looks up to see that Stiles is smiling, like he’s holding back a laugh, like he knows exactly how awkward this is for Derek.

“You know about Scott and Allison, don’t you?” Derek asks.

“That you caught them in a compromising position last night? Yeah, I know,” Stiles says, amused.

“So you and Allison aren’t together?”

“No.”

“But you used to be?”

“No.”

“But you have a kid together?”

“Yes.”

“Are you going to make this as difficult as possible?”

“Probably.”

Derek sighs, though he’s not really annoyed. He’s mostly just relieved. The idea of Scott ever knowingly doing anything to hurt Stiles just didn’t feel right. Scott’s not that kind of person and the idea that Stiles was too oblivious to even notice what was happening felt just as wrong.

He’s still not sure how Stiles and Allison ended up with a kid though. 

The waiter comes back and takes their order. When he’s gone, Derek asks, “So you knew that I thought you and Allison were together this whole time and you just weren’t going to say anything?”

“Once in a lifetime opportunity, man. Everyone else who gets why it’s weird already knows about our situation. You should’ve seen your face when Allison walked up to us the other day. Priceless.”

“Glad I could entertain you,” Derek says drily.

Stiles takes a sip of water. “It’s not like you’re giving us any information about your life.”

He has a point. Though, Derek’s not purposely withholding information to entertain himself.

“What do you want to know?” he asks.

Stiles looks at him, eyes narrowed. “Why’d you leave?”

Of course he would ask the one question Derek doesn’t know how to answer.

“Of all the questions you could ask me about the last ten years, that’s what you want to know?”

“It’s the only thing Cora couldn’t tell me,” Stiles says.

Derek furrows his brows in confusion and Stiles launches into a story detailing the last ten years of Derek’s life from his time in South America, to the year in Chicago and finally to New York. He talks about the various jobs Derek held and even the guy he dated in Chicago for seven months. When he’s done, he says, “But I still don’t know why you left.”

Derek sits there for a minute, just staring at the food the waiter brought while Stiles was talking.

The only thing he can bring himself to say is, “You talk to Cora.”

Stiles picks up a fry and dips it in ketchup. “I ran into her last year.”

“Surprising since she hasn’t been in California in a decade.”

Stiles swallows, takes a sip of water, then explains that he mostly works from home but he still has to meet with some of the bigger companies, like the one Cora works for, that hire him. He tells Derek about running into Cora in New York while he was working for her company, about having lunch with her and staying in contact with her ever since.

“She never said anything,” Derek says.

“I asked her not to.”

Stiles wipes his mouth with his napkin. He’s already finished all of the food on his plate, though Derek has barely touched his.

“You knew where to find us, Derek,” Stiles says. “I figured when you were ready, you’d come home.”

“This isn’t my home,” Derek says automatically. He feels bad about it as soon as the words leave his mouth but Stiles doesn’t look upset. He looks determined, like he has every intention of proving Derek wrong. Something in the back of Derek’s mind says maybe he wants him to.

After a few minutes, Stiles says, “I’ve gotta get back. I have a lot to do. Same time tomorrow?”

Derek nods and Stiles pulls out his wallet, sets a fifty on the table. Derek is about to protest but Stiles just says, “You can pay tomorrow,” and leaves.

Derek watches him walk out the door and all the way to his car, tells himself that it’s because Stiles just paid fifty dollars for what is probably a twenty dollar meal and not because Stiles is getting under his skin and making Derek want to follow him.

\---

The next day, just before Derek is about to leave to go meet Stiles, he gets a text.

(From Stiles) Swamped with work. Not gonna be able to make lunch. Sorry.

Derek tries to push down the disappointment he feels bubbling up. It was just lunch with some guy he used to know, that’s all. He replies to let Stiles know that he got the message, then sits on the edge of the bed. He has nothing to do now.

Except, Stiles still needs to eat, especially if he has a lot to do. He shouldn’t miss a meal just because he doesn’t have time to go out and get it. Derek pretends that’s the reason he orders a couple of burgers and curly fries to-go and drives to the building on Sixth and Maple. It’s a new building- definitely wasn’t there when Derek was living in Beacon Hills. It’s nice too, almost as nice as the building Chris Argent lives in.

Derek goes to the front desk and asks for the Stilinski residence. The man at the desk asks him for id, then types something into the computer - apparently Derek’s name is on the approved-visitors list - before pointing him towards the elevator and sending him up to apartment six-twenty-three.

Derek rings the doorbell and listens to it chime throughout the apartment. He doesn’t hear much else coming from inside, except for heavy footsteps dragging across the floor, before the door opens.

Stiles looks mildly surprised to see him but mostly he just looks like hell. His hair is a disaster again. He’s wearing sweatpants and a ratty white t-shirt with what looks like a coffee stain on the front. His eyes are completely unfocused and he’s kind of squinting at Derek.

“What are you doing here?” he asks.

Derek holds up the bag of food. “Brought you lunch.”

Stiles smiles small. “Thanks,” he says, then moves to let Derek in.

The apartment is dark. All the curtains are closed and there aren’t any lights on. It doesn’t look like Stiles is getting any work done.

He takes the bag from Derek and walks across the entry way to the kitchen, uses a dimmer switch to turn the lights on just a little.

The apartment is nice from what Derek can see. It’s an open floor plan with the kitchen looking out over a large living room. The floors are hardwood and all of the furniture looks fairly expensive. It looks lived in but it’s also a lot cleaner than Derek expected.

He follows Stiles to the kitchen, where he’s putting the bag in the fridge.

“Do you want something to drink?” Stiles asks.

Derek shakes his head. He thinks maybe he shouldn’t have come. Stiles obviously isn’t going to eat right now. “Maybe I should go.”

“No, it’s fine,” Stiles sighs. “I just have a headache.” He holds up his hand to show Derek a little plastic case that looks kind of like an oversized pack of cigarettes.

Derek has no idea what it is.

Stiles can tell, so he flicks the lid open with his thumb and pulls out a tube that looks like a pen. “I was gonna give myself a shot.”

Derek walks over to him. If Stiles is in enough pain to willingly stick a needle in himself, it must be pretty bad. Without even thinking about it, he wraps his hand around Stiles’ forearm and starts leeching the pain. It’s overwhelming and makes Derek’s vision blur but he doesn’t stop, just closes his eyes and concentrates on taking it all away. It takes far longer to start fading than the pain from any headache should and by the time it’s gone, he feels like he’s going to vomit. He doesn’t mind though; it’ll pass in a minute, once his body gets rid of everything he just took from Stiles’.

As he’s waiting for his body to recover, he realizes that while he was taking the pain, Stiles kind of slumped forward against him- his forehead resting on Derek’s shoulder. He’s breathing deeply and Derek can feel the warmth from Stiles exhaling through his shirt. The arm Derek’s hand is still wrapped around is kind of limp.

“Marry me,” Stiles mumbles into Derek’s chest. He already sounds more like Stiles and less like a guy hanging out in the dark in the middle of the day like some kind of vampire.

Stiles pulls away slowly. He looks a thousand times better. He’s alert and there’s no tension in his face.

“Is this why you were late on Thanksgiving?” Derek asks.

Stiles opens the fridge and pulls the bag of food back out. “Uh yeah. I usually need to sleep after the injection.”

“Stiles, half of the people that were there can do what I just did.”

“I’m not going to ask my friends for help every time I get a headache,” he says and turns the lights all the way on.

“You shouldn’t have to ask. And that wasn’t just a headache.”

Stiles sits down at the counter. “Migraine, whatever. There are two burgers in here. Are you gonna eat with me?”

Derek sits down next to him. He drops the subject but can’t help wondering how often Stiles gets migraines, how often he injects himself with whatever is in that plastic case. It smells faintly of sulfur and that can’t possibly be healthy. He wonders if anyone else even knows that Stiles is having a problem.

Just as they’re finishing their food the door bell rings. Stiles stands up and tosses the plastic case that he left sitting on the counter into a drawer. He runs his fingers through his hair, really only making it worse, as he walks to the door, then opens it.

Addie jumps into his arms and he catches her with an “ooof.”

“Look what I made, Daddy,” she says, holding something out for him.

“Let me see that. Oh wow. You’re gonna be the next big thing, pun’kin,” he replies, then backs away from the door to let Allison walk in.

“I know she’s supposed to be with me all weekend,” Allison says, “but Trini just called and my dad’s-,” she stops when her eyes land on Derek. “Hi, Derek. I didn’t know you were here.”

Addie twists out of Stiles’ arms and runs over to him. “Derek, look what I made,” she says and holds out a piece of paper covered in crayon and glitter.

“That’s very good,” he says and she smiles, then runs down the hall to where Derek assumes the bedrooms are.

“If you’re busy-,” Allison starts to say but Stiles cuts her off.

“It’s fine. Derek just brought me lunch to make up for the fact that you’ve been cheating on me with my best friend.”

Derek rolls his eyes and Allison looks confused for a second before putting it together. She turns to him and says, “Obviously Stiles and I aren’t together but, umm, I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t say anything to anyone about me and Scott. Nobody else knows yet, including Addie.”

That would explain the sneaking around and the sheepish looks when he caught them.

“Sure, but your ring kind of gives it away,” Derek gestures to her hand.

She looks down. “What? Oh no, this isn’t an engagement ring. I just- you know.”

Stiles is laughing silently, his shoulders moving up and down.

“What?” Allison asks.

“I didn’t even think about the ring,” he replies. “Derek thought my fiancee was cheating on me with my best friend.”

“It’s really not that funny,” Allison says.

Internally, Derek agrees.

“Yeah, it is,” Stiles says. Then yells, “Adalene Argent-Stilinski, get your butt in here.”

She comes running back down the hall.

“Go get Mr. Hopper. You’re sleeping here tonight,” he says.

Addie runs out the door and Derek really hopes that Mr. Hopper is somewhere in the building.

“Thank you so much,” Allison says.

Addie comes back a few seconds later, carrying a stuffed bunny, and Allison bends down to give her a hug and a kiss, tells her to be good. Then she’s gone.

Stiles closes the door and runs a hand down his face. He looks stressed again.

“Daddy, can we build a house please?” Addie asks.

Stiles looks torn between telling her he can’t play with her and abandoning whatever it is that he actually needs to be doing, so Derek intervenes.

“Why don’t I help you build a house?”

Stiles looks at him. “You don’t have-”

“It’s fine. I’m not doing anything else,” Derek assures him.

Stiles looks to Addie for confirmation that she’s okay with it. She grabs Derek by the hand and starts pulling him toward her bedroom.

Stiles mouths, “Thank you” as Derek gets pulled down the hall, past what looks like an office, to her bedroom.

He spends the next few hours building a mini Lego city with her and then blowing her mind by building a fort, complete with tunnels, out of blankets and pillows. She talks the entire time- just rambles on and on, jumping from thought to thought- it’s kind of comforting. It’s familiar, reminds Derek of the way Stiles used to ramble out loud to himself every once in awhile; and just like her father, Addie always comes to a point, even if she takes the most roundabout way of getting there.

She’s also the most well-behaved kid Derek has ever met. She says “please” and “thank you” without prompt and is patient in a way Derek doubts Stiles ever was. Her temperament is all Allison.

In the hours they spend building houses out of Legos and then pillows, Derek learns that her favorite color is blue (but sometimes red) and that her favorite animal is a bunny like Mr. Hopper. She makes sure to add that she likes wolves and foxes and coyotes too and Derek can’t help but smile at that. He’s not sure if she knows why she’s saying that until she asks him if his eyes glow too. He flashes them at her and she giggles in delight. It’s unbearably cute, especially when she asks him to do it again, then falls to her side laughing when he does. He can’t help but laugh with her. It’s contagious.

She tells him stories about Papa and Missa - Derek assumes she means the Sheriff and Melissa - and then asks him if he’d like to see pictures. He says he would so she brings him out to the living room and points to a shelf that’s out of her reach. On it, there’s a digital picture frame. It changes from a picture of her dressed up as Captain America to a picture of what looks like Scott and Stiles dressed up as ninja turtles when they were kids.

She motions for him to bring it down, then for him to sit on the couch. She climbs into his lap and taps the screen. It goes to a menu and she taps an icon that changes the screen to a library. Then she starts going through the pictures, one-by-one, telling him what each one is. Some of the pictures are from before she was even alive but she knows exactly what they are, like she’s sat in Stiles’ lap and made him tell her about each and every one a hundred times. 

There’s pictures of all the things Derek’s missed over the years: the pack’s high school graduation, various vacations and holidays, all their college graduations. Derek’s pretty sure Allison is very pregnant in the picture of her, Stiles, and Kira graduating from San Francisco State. The timeline fits anyways.

There’s pictures of the day Addie was born - Allison holding her, Stiles holding her, everyone else holding her - followed by baby pictures of her as she grew.

One in particular catches Derek’s attention. It’s a picture of Stiles with her when she’s still an infant- she can’t be more than a month old. He’s laying on a couch that Derek doesn’t recognize and he’s not wearing a shirt. Addie - in just a diaper - is curled up on his bare chest. Both of them have their eyes closed, like they were sleeping when the picture was taken. Addie looks so tiny laying on him, his hand covering her entire back. Something about it makes Derek regret cutting himself off from the pack and missing all these little moments in their lives. It clenches at his heart.

Then Addie’s moving on to the next picture, completely unaware of how special that one was.

They go through the rest of her baby pictures and then through “Papa and Missa’s” wedding, where Addie was the flower girl. Derek isn’t all that surprised to learn that the Sheriff and Melissa are married now. Scott and Stiles were always more like brothers than anything. Now it’s official.

Addie’s telling him about how Scott let her dance on his feet when Stiles clears his throat to get their attention. He’s leaning against the wall at the end of the hallway. Derek doesn’t know how long he’s been standing there but he has a small smile on his face, like he’s been listening to Addie talk.

He looks like he took a shower too. He’s wearing jeans and a clean shirt that’s rucked up in the front from where his arms are crossed over his chest, revealing a line of dark hair that disappears into his waistband. It makes something in Derek’s stomach flutter.

“Who’s gonna help me make some dinner?” Stiles asks.

“Me!” Addie yells and slides off of Derek’s lap.

“You better go wash your hands then,” Stiles tells her and she runs down the hall to the bathroom.

Derek stands to put the picture frame back on the shelf. It’s showing a picture of Malia blowing bubbles for Addie at the wedding reception. Addie’s laughing like the bubbles are the best thing she’s ever seen.

Stiles comes up behind him. “That was a good day.”

Derek turns around to face him. “Looks like it.”

“So you gonna let me and my kid cook something mediocre for you?”

It’s a simple question but something about the way Stiles asks it feels intimate and Derek thinks he should probably say no, probably just go back to his room at the motel and stay put, but despite his better judgement, he wants to stay.

He doesn’t answer but Stiles smirks anyway, says, “Mhmm” and goes to the kitchen where Addie is already pulling out pots and pans.

Derek follows him over and takes a seat at the counter.

“Tonight,” Stiles says, “we will be eating breakfast for dinner since I didn’t have time to go shopping and pancake mix is all we have.”

Addie doesn’t seem too upset about that. She’s moved from pulling out random pots and pans to random ingredients. Stiles just takes them back to the pantry as he gets out what he actually needs. Derek watches silently as they move together, Stiles narrating everything he’s doing, though Derek is pretty sure that’s for Addie’s benefit, not his own.

Once Stiles has all the ingredients out he pulls a chair from the table over to the counter for Addie to stand on, then starts handing her measured ingredients to pour into the bowl. She bites her lower lip as she pours them in. It’s the same face Stiles makes when he’s concentrating. Once all the ingredients are in, he hands her a spoon and tells her to mix them.

While she’s stirring he cracks half a dozen eggs into a different bowl and whisks them, then sets them aside. He comes up behind her and grabs the spoon above where her little hands are wrapped around it and helps her stir, holding the bowl in place with his other hand. Once the batter is thoroughly mixed, he moves to the stove and starts heating a pan. Then, goes back to grab the batter.

“Ready, pun’kin?” he asks.

Addie nods enthusiastically, getting down from the chair and pushing it back over to the table.

Stiles takes the bowl over to the stove - his back now to Derek - and pours some batter onto the pan. After about thirty seconds he flips it, then sets another pan over a different burner and turns it on. When the pancake is done, he looks to Addie who is now standing behind him with a plastic plate, and says, “Three, two, one,” then tosses the pancake over his shoulder.

It lands half on her plate, half hanging off, and she laughs in amusement. She pushes it all the way onto the plate then walks over to the table and sets it down, while Stiles cooks the rest of the pancakes and scrambles the eggs.

Derek watches, transfixed, as the muscles in Stiles’ back and arms work while he flips the pancakes and pushes the eggs around the pan. Stiles has definitely grown up. In more ways than one.

When he’s done cooking, he motions for Derek to go sit at the table that Addie has set, and carries the food over.

“Sorry I don’t have any bacon,” he says as he scrapes eggs onto all of their plates, then brings the pan over to the sink. “What do you want to drink? Milk? Orange juice? Water?”

“Milk’s fine,” Derek answers, sitting down.

Stiles comes back with three glasses of milk, his fingers more than long enough to hold all of them.

“Excellent table setting, pun’kin,” he tells Addie.

“Thank you,” she says, then launches into a story recounting everything her and Derek did while Stiles was working.

Stiles listens intently, asking questions here and there, but he keeps stealing glances at Derek, the right corner of his mouth turned up the entire time, even while he’s chewing. Derek would ask him why but he’s too caught up in watching the way Stiles interacts with Addie. Besides, he doesn’t want to interrupt their conversation.

When everyone’s finished eating and Addie’s told Stiles everything about her day, she asks, “May I please be excused?”

Derek doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to the manners.

“Yes,” Stiles tells her, then looks at Derek and says, “I know what you’re thinking.”

Derek arches a brow.

“You’re wondering how I got so lucky, but don’t worry, everyone tells me she’s going to be a defiant nightmare when she’s a teenager,” Stiles says and starts clearing the dishes from the table.

Derek stands to help. Stiles loads the plates and utensils into the dishwasher, then fills up the sink with water to wash the mixing bowls and pans. He washes them then hands them to Derek to dry.

“Was it artificial insemination?” Derek asks as Stiles hands him a clean bowl.

Stiles stops to look at him for a moment like he’s not sure if Derek is serious, then says, “Do either of us strike you as the kind of people who were desperate to have children at twenty-one? Do you think Allison’s empty womb was making her sad and everyone just agreed that I’d be an excellent choice for the father, what with my genetic lottery of ADHD, alcoholism, and dementia?”

Derek ignores all the sarcasm and says, “You’re a good father.”

“You don’t know anything about me,” Stiles counters as he hands Derek the last dish and drains the sink.

“I know your daughter worships you.”

“She’s five. Of course she worships me. She also thinks Kidz Bop is quality music though so I wouldn’t trust her judgement.”

“Are you ever going to tell me how you and Allison ended up having a kid together?” Derek asks, placing the bowl on the counter.

Stiles crosses his arms and leans back against the opposite counter, facing Derek. “Maybe. If you earn it.”

It’s a challenge. Stiles might be an adult now with a job and a child but he’s still Stiles at his core. He’s still the kid that took pleasure in riling Derek up, in pushing and getting Derek to push back.

The problem is Stiles isn’t a kid anymore - not by any stretch of the imagination - and he’s getting under Derek’s skin in an entirely different way. Derek still wants to push back, still wants to wipe that smug look off his face but now he wants to do it in a way that leaves Stiles breathless, possibly even speechless, though he likes the sound of Stiles’ voice far more than he ever thought he would.

It’s definitely not a problem he expected to be dealing with when he came back to Beacon Hills. Or ever, really. He’s not sure how to handle it. Part of him wants to just crowd Stiles up against the counter, lick into his pretty little mouth, bite into the soft flesh of his neck, and press their bodies together until Stiles is panting his name.

The other part of him wants to leave and never come back. He’s only going to be in town for a few more days and sex with Stiles would never be just that. It’s not that simple. They have a history, a complicated one. And Stiles has a kid. Derek should probably just go. He needs to stop letting Stiles bait him, stop letting himself care about the people here any more than he already does.

What he ends up doing is mimicking Stiles’ pose, leaning against the other counter silently. Stiles watches him, doesn’t say anything, just lets his eyes run down the length of Derek’s body. It does nothing to help Derek figure out what he should do.

Luckily, Addie comes back into the kitchen and asks for some water. Stiles pours some into a plastic cup for her, then starts putting the clean dishes away.

“I should probably go,” Derek says, once all the dishes are back where they belong.

Stiles looks at him. “Okay.”

Derek nods then heads to the door. “Bye, Addie,” he calls out.

She comes running down the hall, straight to him, wraps her little arms around his leg.

“Bye, Derek. Next time we can play tea party,” she says, then runs back to her room.

Stiles opens the front door for him, says, “Thanks for today.”

Derek nods. “No problem.”

He walks out into the hall and is just about to head for the elevator when Stiles stops him. “Derek?”

Derek turns back around.

“Please don’t make my kid fall in love with you if you’re planning on disappearing for the next ten years,” Stiles says pointedly, then shuts the door.

Derek stands there for a minute. He can hear Stiles inside calling to Addie, telling her to go brush her teeth and get ready for bed. He’s tempted to go back in, to tell Stiles that he’s not the one that’s been keeping tabs on him for the last year, or the one that invited him to Thanksgiving dinner and then again to lunch. He’s not the one trying to worm his way back into Stiles’ life. All Derek wanted to do was come to Beacon Hills and hopefully sell his family’s land. He didn’t want to get mixed up with anyone here again.

He sighs and starts walking to the elevator. It’s probably best if he just makes a clean break now. Besides, Stiles is just trying to protect his daughter and Derek was planning on disappearing again, and not just for ten years. He may not have been acting like it, may have even forgotten a few times, but it’s always been the plan. It was supposed to keep the disappointment and destruction he tends to leave in his wake to a minimum.

So much for that.

\---

Derek spends the next day running through the preserve, trying to clear his head. He runs for hours, until he’s dripping with sweat and can’t feel his muscles anymore. He doesn’t come across another person once. It’s the one thing New York doesn’t have.

Well, not the only thing.

He stops in the north west corner of the preserve to take a break, to let his body rest. He lays on his back in the grass in a clearing and closes his eyes, tries not to think about what it feels like to be back here, or that this is probably going to be the last time he is.

He thinks about the day he came back to Beacon Hills and found Laura, what was left of her anyways. Thinks about the day Scott and Stiles came looking for Scott’s inhaler, and then when they got him arrested. He smiles, despite himself. They were just a couple of kids, completely misguided, but overflowing with gumption.

He thinks about Stiles climbing into the cruiser, all false bravado and curiosity. If things were different, they might have had fun, might’ve been friends. Maybe if they had met in another life- one where Derek didn’t destroy almost everything he touched, where his family wasn’t dead and Scott’s life wasn’t turned upside down because of it; a life where Erica and Boyd were still alive and Stiles was never possessed, never took anybody’s life with his own hands.

Derek wonders what would’ve happened to them if they never got mixed up in his world, if they never experienced the pain and the loss, if they just got to be kids. The thing is, they’re all doing okay now. They figured it out.

Derek doesn’t know how they did it. He’d been gone six months when Scott called to tell him they shut off the power to the nemeton, that everything was going to be okay. Derek turned off his phone and threw it in a sewer that night. It was the last time he talked to any of them before he ran into Stiles at the drugstore. He has no idea how they picked up the pieces of their lives.

Those ten years feel like two days right now. All the time Derek spent in South America with Cora, all the time he spent re-anchoring himself, and then settling back into his life in New York, it’s all just gone out the window, like it never happened, like he never left.

But he did leave. Beacon Hills isn’t his home anymore. He has a life in New York now. Cora is his life now. His job editing books is his life now. Blending into a crowd of people with total anonymity is his life now. It’s the life he wants, the life he knows how to live.

He gets up, shakes out his arms and legs, preparing to start running back. One of the trees at the edge of the clearing catches his eye. It has a gray tint to it, looks dry and ashen. He walks over and puts his palm flat against it. Some of the bark falls to the ground. He pushes and it gives easily, like it has no roots holding it in place. He puts his hand on the tree next to it and a layer of bark falls to the ground.

He walks back into the forest, going deeper and deeper, and sees that all of the trees in this part of the preserve are in various stages of death. Some have already fallen over, some look like they’d crumple to dust if he so much as breathed on them, and some are just starting to lose their bark. There’s no grass or vegetation coming up out of the ground either. It’s all dead.

He scoops up some dirt and sniffs it. It doesn’t smell like anything but earth. Extremely dry earth. It’s possible that Beacon Hills is going through a drought, but if that’s the problem, the entire preserve should be feeling it, not just one corner.

Derek puffs out a breath of air. He wonders if anyone else knows about this, wonders if he should tell Gene about it when he meets with him. He tilts his head from side to side, cracking his neck, then starts running back. He’ll figure it out later.

\---

On Monday Derek meets Gene at a coffee shop in town. He’s a small guy, kind of mousy. Definitely the kind of person who’d be startled by his own shadow. He shows Derek his plans to turn the preserve into some sort of camp for underprivileged kids. They’re thorough. He has everything from an Executive Summary to a Cost Volume to possible donors and investors once the camp is up and running.

After he goes through all the plans - which, really, Derek didn’t need to spend three hours listening to him talk about the details of where he plans to purchase the lumber to build the cabins from - he looks Derek dead in the eye, and says, “Let’s talk money.”

Then he scribbles something on a scrap of paper and pushes it over to Derek, like he’s the star in some shitty movie where a bunch of rich guys talk about how rich they are the entire time. It’s ridiculous and for a second Derek wishes Stiles were here to crack a joke about it. He pushes Stiles out of his mind, though, and picks up the piece of paper.

It’s a big number. It’s more money than Derek already has, which is not a small amount, and far more than he expected to be offered. Not that it really matters. This was never about the price. Derek tells him he’ll have to think about it and that he’ll call him when he makes his decision.

Gene looks confused, like he fully expected Derek to sign the land over to him today, but shakes his hand anyway and thanks him for his time, says he looks forward to hearing from Derek.

Derek goes back to the motel. He wants to pack up his things and head back to New York right away. There’s something about Gene- he doesn’t want to sell his family’s land to him but he doesn’t have a good reason not to. Gene has good plans for the preserve and he’s offering way more money than it’s probably worth. Derek would prefer if it was kept a preserve but a camp for underprivileged kids is not a bad alternative.

Plus, if he accepts the offer, he’ll have no reason to stay in Beacon Hills, no reason to come back. He’ll be completely done with this town. He’ll be able to let go for good. And that’s what he wants. That was the whole point of coming back here- to say goodbye and move on once and for all.

He calls Cora from the motel, tells her about Gene and his plans, asks her what she thinks he should do.

She’s quiet at first. Derek can hear her breathing through the speaker. After a minute she says, “I don’t think you should sell it unless you’re ready to.”

It’s a complete one-eighty from what she said before he came out here, which was more along the lines of “Just get rid of it for all I care.”

“I’m ready to,” Derek tells her. “I just don’t know if I want to sell it to this guy.”

“Why don’t you take some time to think about? It’s not like there’s any rush to get back here.”

“There is a rush. I don’t want to be here anymore, Cora. My life is in New York.”

“Your life? Is that what you’re calling it?”

“Yes, my life. You know, the place that I live, where my family and my job are.”

“Just because your name is on a lease doesn’t make it your home. Your family can handle herself just fine while you’re away and you can do your ten hour a week job from anywhere.”

“Glad to know you miss me,” he says drily.

“Save the pity party, Derek. You’re not welcome back here until you’ve pulled your head out of your ass,” she says, then hangs up.

Sometimes Derek wants to sit on his sister’s head and put Nair in her shampoo bottles.

He spends the next week going to the preserve, running the perimeter, looking to see if the vegetation is dying anywhere else besides what he initially found. It seems to be contained to that one area so he tries to find the source of the problem, see if maybe there’s contamination somewhere or if the water supply got blocked off somehow. He doesn’t find anything.

He gets four voicemails from Gene, a text from Scott, and some variation of “get your shit together” from Cora every day.

He ignores all of them.

He doesn’t hear from Stiles.

\---

A week after he meets with Gene, he still doesn’t have an answer for him. He also doesn’t have any clean clothes and the detergent in the dispensers at the motel smells too heavily of bleach. He goes to the store to buy a box of Tide, some dryer sheets, and a pack of t-shirts. He has a feeling he’s going to be in Beacon Hills much longer than he wants to be.

He’s walking towards the aisle where the socks are - might as well get a pack of those too - when a familiar laugh catches his attention. It’s Addie, no question. He knows he should probably just keep walking - clean break and all - but he finds himself following the sound anyways. It takes him a few aisles over to where the toys are. She’s bouncing a big red ball up and down, and for a second Derek thinks she’s alone until he sees Stiles at the end of the aisle, slumped over against a cart, his face in his hands.

Addie notices Derek standing there and holds a finger to her lips, says, “Shh, daddy is sleeping.”

Stiles groans. “Daddy’s awake,” he says but doesn’t look up.

Derek puts his basket down and walks over to him, lifts his face. Stiles winces and immediately shuts his eyes. He’s clearly in pain and the light isn’t helping. Derek moves his hand to the back of Stiles’ neck, starts taking the pain.

Stiles whimpers, then falls into Derek like he did the last time, his head resting on Derek’s shoulder. Derek wraps his other arm around Stiles’ waist- as much to keep himself steady, as to hold Stiles up. They stand like that while Derek draws out all the pain. It’s bad, worse than the last time, and he feels out of breath by the time he’s done. He’s not sure how Stiles was even on his feet still.

They stay standing like that with Derek trying to catch his breath as his body heals itself, Stiles wrapped in his arms.

Stiles starts to release his grip from where his hands made their way to Derek’s sides slowly, in increments, until his fingers are just resting there and Derek can barely feel them. He doesn’t really want Stiles to let go.

He can hear Addie still bouncing the ball somewhere behind him. She seems completely unperturbed by what’s happening, just lost in her own little five-year old world.

Stiles starts laughing. It’s not loud - mostly just his body shaking - but he grips Derek’s sides again as he laughs. Derek turns his face to press his nose into Stiles’ hair, whispers, “What’s so funny?”

Stiles shakes his head and pushes off of Derek. Derek let’s his arms drop, waits for Stiles to answer.

Stiles rubs at his eyes, takes a deep breath in, then says, “I was just remembering some of your greatest hits.”

Derek arches a brow.

Stiles bites the inside of his cheek. “I’m the alpha.”

Derek rolls his eyes. He knows exactly what Stiles is talking about. “I saved your life.”

“I know.” Stiles nods his head, exaggerated. “You’re my hero.”

“I regret that decision every day.”

Stiles smiles. “No, you don’t.”

“No, I don’t.”

It feels like there’s too much space between them. Derek wants to move back in, wants to pull Stiles back into his arms.

Addie starts singing a song, something about red fish and blue fish and Derek remembers why he’s supposed to be keeping his distance.

“Planning on doing some laundry?” Stiles asks, jutting his chin towards Derek’s abandoned basket.

“I ran out of clean clothes.”

“Bring ‘em by the apartment. You can wash them while I feed you dinner,” Stiles says. He starts pushing his cart toward Addie.

“I can do them at the motel. It’s fine,” Derek protests.

“Nope,” is all Stiles says, before him and Addie are walking off out of sight.

Derek sighs. One day he’ll learn self-preservation but today is not that day. Today he’s going to Stiles’.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the love thus far! You guys are awesome! Come say hi on [tumblr!](http://pickasalvatore.tumblr.com/)

Derek’s standing outside of Stiles’ apartment. He’s just rung the doorbell when he hears Addie’s voice in the apartment behind him. For a second, he thinks he’s at the wrong door, but then Stiles opens it. Derek looks behind him. He can still hear Addie’s voice in the other apartment.

“Allison,” Stiles says.

Derek turns back around, confused.

“Allison lives in that apartment. Addie’s with her tonight,” Stiles clarifies.

That explains a lot, actually.

“Convenient,” Derek says and walks into Stiles’ apartment.

Stiles closes the door behind him. “Yeah, we, uh, we couldn’t live together forever but we didn’t want to be too far from each other either because of Addie so when that apartment became available, she took it and I turned her room into an office.”

“You guys used to live together?”

“Mhmm,” Stiles says, walking towards the kitchen. “For a year in San Francisco and then a year here.”

“But you weren’t together.”

Stiles smiles knowingly. “We weren’t together. How do you feel about pizza?”

“Pizza’s fine.”

Stiles pulls out his phone and orders a couple pizzas. Then notices that Derek has his entire suitcase with him and raises his eyebrows in question.

Derek shrugs. “It’s not like I have a hamper at the motel.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

Stiles shows him to the laundry room, shows him where the detergent and dryer sheets are, even though he knows Derek just bought his own. Then leaves him to it.

Derek sorts his clothes, then throws the first load in the machine. He walks back out to the kitchen but Stiles isn’t there. He doesn’t actually hear Stiles anywhere in the apartment. He had no idea Stiles could be this quiet. He focuses his hearing to pick up his heartbeat. Stiles is in his office.

Derek contemplates just leaving Stiles alone but decides that’s no fun. He walks down the hall to the office where the door is open. Stiles is sitting at a desk on one side of the room, his back to the door. On the other side of the room there’s a futon. Derek walks over to it and stretches out across it, locks his fingers behind his head. Stiles looks up from where he was reading something on his laptop.

“Comfy?” he asks.

“Yep,” Derek replies.

Stiles looks at him for a beat, then goes back to reading. They stay like that - Stiles working and Derek watching him - until Stiles’ phone rings. He answers it, then says, “Yeah, send him up.”

He hangs up, says, “Pizza’s here,” then stands. He lifts his arms up over his head in a stretch, his shirt riding up to reveal that dark trail of hair. Derek wants to find where it disappears to. Instead he just stands up and follows Stiles back out to the kitchen.

Stiles eats pizza like it’s a sexual experience. He moans around every bite, draws the cheese in with his tongue, licks the grease from his lips, sucks it off his fingers. It’s distracting at best. Derek had no idea pizza could be so erotic.

He tries to ignore it, asks Stiles about his job and how it is that he can afford to work from home. Stiles vaguely explains what he does, says that most of the work just involves him developing a strategy for the companies that hire him- that that’s the hard part, the part he gets paid for. For the bigger companies, like the one Cora works for, he’ll go out and implement the plan of action himself, but for most of the smaller ones, he uses interns from the MBA program at SFSU. He sends the plans to them and they implement them in exchange for internship credits and work experience. Sometimes, he’ll let a group of them develop the strategy themselves, says he usually ends up tweaking it but it saves him a lot of time.

He talks about it like he knows what he’s doing but he also sounds bored, like it’s not what he wants to be doing. Derek wants to ask but doesn’t think he has the right. Instead, he says, “I didn’t know you majored in business.”

Stiles shakes his head. “I didn’t. I majored in anthropology. Minored in business.”

Derek looks at him, waits for him to explain.

“During college I was working at this company part time- just filing papers and shit but I, uh, I got really bored so I decided to rebuild their entire organizational system from the ground up. It only took me a few days and saved them a ton of money. So they offered me an actual job- the kind that pays six figures.”

“Which you took?”

Stiles shakes his head again. “Not at first. Wasn’t exactly my dream job, ya know? And I was still in school anyways.”

He wipes his hands on a napkin, then crumples it up and tosses it on his empty plate. He leans back in his chair. “But then Allison got pregnant.”

“But you weren’t together,” Derek adds, sardonic.

Stiles looks down, smiles, and Derek thinks he’s going to avoid the topic again but then he looks back up and starts talking. He tells Derek how he and Allison got close when she came back from France for senior year of high school, how they were both going through break-ups - him with Malia, her with Isaac - how they ended up sleeping together once and just kind of pretended like it never happened. Then, in college, when it was just the two of them - Kira studying abroad for a semester and everyone else at different schools - it happened again a few times but it was never anything more than sex.

Derek is pretty sure that Stiles is downplaying how often it happened and when but he doesn’t say anything, just let’s Stiles keep talking.

Stiles explains what it was like telling everyone else- how everybody pretended like they were okay with it but they weren’t. They were angry and hurt but they wouldn’t say anything- they just distanced themselves. He says it was mostly just him and Allison while she was pregnant and that he didn’t really have a choice so he took the job as soon as they graduated and they moved into an apartment together in the city.

“Everybody seems okay with it now,” Derek says.

Stiles nods, slow. “Once Addie was born it was like it didn’t matter anymore. Everybody just kind of forgot why they were upset in the first place.”

Derek asks him how he ended up working from home and he explains that Allison stayed home with Addie for the first year but he could tell she was miserable. Danny helped him start his own company so he could work from home and Allison could go back to school. He bought the apartment and they moved back to Beacon Hills; says it all worked out, that Allison is happy again.

“But now you’re not?” Derek asks. He doesn’t mean to, it just sort of comes out.

Stiles shrugs. “I love my family more than I dislike my job.”

Derek doesn’t really know how to argue that kind of logic so he just says, “And you’re good at what you do?”

“I’m a twenty-seven year old with a degree in anthropology and I make enough to support all three of us easily. I sent my dad and Melissa to a five-star resort for their honeymoon. My student loans are paid off and Addie’s college will be more than paid for by the time she’s eighteen,” Stiles says.

He’s drumming his fingers on the table. “I can keep going, Derek. Do you really want me to tell you how successful I am? You know I don’t like to brag.”

He’s joking but Derek can tell he really is uncomfortable talking about how much he makes. Derek gets it. He hates talking about how much money he has and he didn’t even do anything to earn his.

Instead of asking Stiles any more questions - he already got way more out of him than he expected - he goes to move his clothes from the washer to the dryer and put another load in.

After that they watch a movie- some action flick that’s on pay-per-view. Derek isn’t really paying attention to it though. He’s replaying everything Stiles told him in his head. He’s actually really impressed. It’s not that he didn’t think Stiles could be responsible, he just didn’t think he’d be so responsible at such a young age. He knows Stiles has a tendency to take on everybody else’s problems and pretend like his own don’t exist - which is basically what he’s doing now - but he’s making it work in his own way. And really, he doesn’t seem unhappy, just bored. Derek has a feeling Stiles would get bored with just about any job given enough time anyways.

He’d be lying if he said it made Stiles any less attractive. The truth is everything he just learned about Stiles - everything he’s done for his family, how he includes Allison in that, no question - just intrigues Derek more.

Apparently Derek’s into the whole provider thing. Really into it. He didn’t know that about himself until now.

When the movie ends, Derek goes to take his second load of clothes out of the dryer. He’s folding them and placing them back in the suitcase when Stiles says, “You should just stay here.”

Derek looks up at him.

“Motels are gross, dude, and I have an extra room,” Stiles says.

“That’s your office, dude.”

“My office is literally anywhere I take my laptop, Derek.”

Derek stops folding. He really hates that motel. It smells horrible and he never feels clean. At least if he’s here, he can help out- keep Addie busy when Stiles has work to do and take his migraines away before he has to stick himself with a needle.

It’s a terrible idea but he really hates the way that motel smells.

Stiles grabs his suitcase and starts dragging it toward his office.

“Stiles-”

“All your stuff’s already here. Sorry, I don’t make the rules.”

Derek scratches the back of his head. He wonders when the last time somebody said no to Stiles was.

\---

Derek startles awake in the middle of the night. He immediately jumps to his feet, ready to attack. It takes him a second to get his bearings - remember that he’s at Stiles’- and then another to figure out what woke him. He hears Stiles open the front door and he’s about to go out there to see what’s going on when he realizes that it’s Allison with a crying Addie. Her sobs become muffled and he hears Stiles shh shh shh-ing her until they fade into nothing but her breathing. Derek listens to what he thinks is Stiles taking her to her bedroom, putting her in bed, then shutting the door and walking back out to the front.

Then he hears Allison break down into tears. It sounds like she’s saying, “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong” but Derek isn’t sure because then her sobs are muffled and Stiles is shh shh shh-ing her.

It takes Allison a little longer to calm down and when she does Stiles asks her if she wants to stay the night. Derek doesn’t hear a response but after a few more minutes he hears them say goodnight followed by Allison’s footsteps as she walks back to her apartment and Stiles’ as he goes to his room.

They might not be together but they’re definitely a family. They definitely love and trust each other. Derek wonders how Scott fits into all of it, wonders if Stiles ever tried to fit someone into it. If he would even consider it.

\---

The smell of coffee wakes Derek in the morning. He shuffles out to the kitchen where Stiles is sitting at the table, reading something on an iPad, cup of coffee in hand.

“Morning,” Derek mumbles. He’s not really a morning person.

Stiles doesn’t look up but he motions behind him, says, “You know how to work a Keurig, right?”

Derek grunts. He has no idea what a Keurig is. Though it’s probably the appliance on the counter that says Keurig. It has a small LED display screen with buttons that show different size cups but Derek has no idea how he’s supposed to make it produce coffee. He shouldn’t have to use his brain to figure out how to get caffeine this early in the morning.

Stiles comes up behind him, sets a mug on the base of the machine. “What do you want? French vanilla? Caramel? You a weird peppermint kind of guy?”

“Coffee,” is all Derek can say. He’s not equipped to make decisions about flavors. He just wants caffeine. 

Stiles doesn’t say anything but Derek’s pretty sure he’s trying not to laugh. He opens the cupboard above them, pulls out what looks like a small cup of creamer, and puts it in the machine. He presses one of the buttons, then goes back to the table. The machine starts making noise and within minutes there’s a full cup of coffee.

Derek takes it over to the table, drinks it quietly while Stiles reads.

Once his brain feels like it’s working again he asks, “Where’s Addie?”

“School. Allison picked her up about thirty minutes ago.” Stiles takes a sip of coffee. “So you heard us last night.”

Derek nods. “Does that happen a lot?”

Stiles rubs his forehead. “Once or twice a week.”

Derek doesn’t know that much about kids, at least not about their sleeping patterns, doesn’t know if that’s normal. “Does she have nightmares?”

Stiles shakes his head. “It’s just a thing she’s going through. Usually when she wakes up in the middle of the night she puts herself back to sleep but lately, when she wakes up over there, she won’t go back to sleep until Allison brings her here. It’s- It’s just a phase.”

“Didn’t sound like it’s just a phase to Allison.”

Stiles chews on his bottom lip, drums his fingers against his cup. “It’s-” he tries, runs a hand down his face. “It’s just the first phase where Addie can actually say what she wants. It hurt a lot less when she would just cry until she got whatever it was she wanted, ya know. When Allison first moved out, Addie cried for weeks every time Allison left her here but she never actually said that she wanted her instead of me… just implied it with all the screaming.”

“And now she wants you instead of Allison?”

“It’s just a phase,” Stiles says. It sounds more like he’s trying to convince himself than Derek.

“You don’t think it’s just a phase,” Derek says.

Stiles sighs. “No. Yes. Kind of.”

Derek raises his eyebrows, waits for Stiles to explain.

“Ugh,” Stiles runs his hands through his hair. “It’s Scott. No. It’s not Scott. It’s just he’s been around a lot more lately, like a lot more. And sometimes he picks her up from school instead of me and he’s just…” he trails off.

“You think Addie’s afraid he’s going to replace you,” Derek prompts.

“Yeah but if I tell them, they’ll stop and it’s-” He takes a deep breath in. “They’re finally happy, you know. In the long run it’s what’s best for everyone, including Addie.”

Derek’s not sure if he agrees with that but he doesn’t have a kid so he doesn’t argue.

After he’s had another cup of coffee, he leaves Stiles to his work and goes out to the preserve. He runs the perimeter again, still looking for anything out of the ordinary. He’s not sure why the dead trees are bothering him so much. Plants die all the time. It’s just something that happens but he can’t let it go. He feels like he won’t be able to sell the land until he figures out what’s wrong with it but he just can’t find anything.

Around noon, he goes back to the apartment. It’s completely dark again. He follows Stiles’ heartbeat to his bedroom. He probably shouldn’t go in there but the door’s not even closed all the way. He can see the outline of Stiles’ body laying on the bed. He looks like a little kid- curled in the fetal position on his side. He shifts a little and groans in pain. The sound aches in Derek’s chest and before he can stop himself, he’s walking into the room and climbing on the bed. He lays behind Stiles- wraps himself around him so that Stiles’ back is pressed to his chest.

There’s not really any need for him to be this close to Stiles. He could do this without even touching the bed- just stand next to it and grab Stiles’ hand. Instead, he finds Stiles’ hip, brushes his fingers under Stiles’ shirt until he feels skin under his palm, then starts taking the pain away.

It’s not as bad this time. Stiles already injected himself; Derek can smell the sulfur. He feels the tension fall out of Stiles as he takes the pain that’s left, feels him relax against him, hears his breathing and his pulse even out.

Neither of them say anything, neither of them move. Derek keeps his hand on Stiles, listens to him fall asleep. The smell of sulfur is still there and Derek wants to get rid of it, but underneath it, there’s the familiar scent of warm skin and sweet almond that’s just Stiles. He puts his nose to Stiles’ neck and breathes him in. It’s more than just familiar. It’s comforting, more so than it should be. He falls asleep wrapped around Stiles, his pulse a steady rhythm under Derek’s hand, his scent filling Derek’s nose.

\---

An obnoxious beeping wakes Derek up. He wants to make it stop but he doesn’t want to move. He’s warm and comfortable; he feels good, feels happy. Then the beeping stops and the warmth starts to move away from him. Instinctively he pulls it back towards him.

“I have to pick Addie up from school.”

The warmth is Stiles. Because Derek fell asleep next to him. On his bed. Where his hand drifted to Stiles’ chest- his arm completely wrapped around him. He immediately releases his grip but Stiles doesn’t move right away. Derek’s arm is suspended in the air from where he lifted it off of Stiles. He pulls it back to himself and rolls onto his back, away from Stiles.

Stiles sits up, presses some button next to the bed that turns the lights on, and rubs his eyes. He makes a little frustrated noise, then gets up and goes into the bathroom. Derek listens to him open a cabinet, uncap a bottle, take a swig of what’s probably mouthwash, swish it around in his mouth, then spit it out. Stiles makes another frustrated noise, then turns the sink on.

When he comes back out it looks like he attempted to fix his hair but all he really did was mess it up in a different way. It’s sort of adorable and Derek wants to pull him back onto the bed - the bed that he’s still laying on - and mess it up even more.

Instead he sits up and rubs his hands over his face- mostly just to distract himself.

“You coming?” Stiles asks.

Derek clears his throat, then stands up. “Yep.”

It’s not like he has anything better to do and it would probably be weird if he stayed in Stiles’ bed.

They pick Addie up from kindergarten where apparently her teacher is Kira. When she sees Derek with Stiles, she shoots Stiles a quizzical look. Derek misses what Stiles’ response is, but whatever it is, it returns Kira to her normal, cheerful self. She says bye to them and they leave.

It’s a cold day so they take Addie to get hot chocolate from the cafe on Main Street, then go back to the apartment. Addie sits at the table doing her homework while Stiles does something on his laptop. Derek’s still waiting for a copy of the next manuscript he’s supposed to be editing to arrive so he reads a book.

When Addie’s done, she drags Derek to her room to play tea party with her. She tells him that only queens and kings are allowed to drink tea and puts a plastic crown on his head. Then she teaches him the proper tea drinking “eddie kick” which is basically raising your pinky finger while you pretend to drink it.

A little while later, Stiles comes to get Addie to help him make Hamburger Helper for dinner because apparently the only thing he knows how to cook outside of pancakes and eggs are things that have simple directions. Derek kicks him out of the kitchen, makes him sit at the counter, while he cooks a proper meal. Addie pushes a chair over and “helps” him.

Stiles watches without saying a word and Derek continues to be surprised by how quiet he can be, though he’s not sure why. He’s always thought of Stiles as a loud person but the more he thinks about it, the more he realizes that that’s not really true.

Stiles’ presence is loud, sure. He sort of takes up all the air in the room, like he’s too big for it. And he’s fidgety, always tapping his foot or drumming his fingers, even if it’s just along his arm.

But he’s not actually loud. He doesn’t even talk all that much, not unless he wants to. Sometimes he mumbles to himself and he kind of rambles when he’s nervous but, in general, he’s not a particularly chatty person. It’s actually one of the few things Derek liked about him in the beginning- almost everything he said had a point, even if it was a point Derek didn’t particularly want to listen to.

So Stiles sits quietly and watches as Derek and Addie make dinner.

The rest of the week passes pretty much the same- Derek wakes up just after Addie’s left for school and Stiles makes him a cup of coffee. They drink their coffee together at the kitchen table. Then, Derek goes to the preserve and Stiles stays at the apartment to do his work. They pick Addie up from school and she does her homework while they do their work. When Addie’s done, she goes to play and usually brings Derek with her. Then, Derek makes dinner and him and Stiles clean up after.

Some afternoons Allison comes by and picks Addie up but she ends up bringing her back crying in the middle of the night half of the time.

Stiles has three more migraines- one that starts in the morning before Derek even leaves to go to the preserve, one while Addie is doing her homework, and one after dinner one night. He never asks Derek for help, and they never talk about it. Derek just does it- pulls Stiles against him in the kitchen in the morning, wraps his hand around Stiles’ arm while Addie’s doing her homework, takes Stiles’ hand in his on the couch after dinner.

Derek likes having a reason to be close to Stiles, likes hearing the little relieved noises he makes, likes how his body becomes warm and pliant after, but he hates that Stiles is in so much pain so often. He wants to make it stop all together but he doesn’t know how because Stiles doesn’t talk about it.

\---

Derek jolts awake in the middle of the night on Friday. At first, he’s not sure what woke him. He doesn’t hear anything. Addie’s in her bed- her heart rate and breathing are normal. She’s asleep. Stiles-

Stiles isn’t in his room. Derek can’t hear him anywhere in the apartment. He gets up and walks down the hall to the kitchen. The front door is closed but it isn’t locked. He opens it and immediately he hears it.

“Scott, just listen to me, focus on my voice,” Stiles is saying from somewhere in Allison’s apartment. Her door is closed but Derek goes in anyway. He follows the sound through a bedroom and into a bathroom where Scott is on his knees in the shower, half-shifted; Stiles and Allison are trying to calm him down. There’s blood dripping down Scott’s hands from where he’s digging his claws into his palms.

“What the hell?” Derek says. It’s not even a full moon.

“I can’t control it,” Scott says. Then, “Get the wolfsbane.”

“Scott-” Allison starts but he yells, “Now!”

As soon as she starts to leave the bathroom Scott lunges after her.

Derek jumps in front of him, pushes him back into the shower. Scott comes at him and Derek pushes him back again. Scott keeps coming for him but it’s like he’s on autopilot, like he’s not thinking about what he’s doing at all. He’s an alpha, a True Alpha, and Derek is having no trouble holding him off- easily dodging Scott’s swipes and just pushing him back into the shower, like he’s a newly bitten teenager all over again, only with less awareness.

Allison comes back in with a syringe and hands it to Stiles.

Resigned, Stiles says, “Hold him down.”

Derek doesn’t want to but it doesn’t seem like Scott is going to stop any time soon. The next time Scott comes at him, he twists his arm behind his back and pushes Scott down onto his knees, then onto his stomach. He holds Scott down while Stiles jams the needle into his neck. Derek can smell the wolfsbane solution in it. It’s not lethal but it’s not pleasant either.

Scott stops struggling against him and passes out. Derek releases his grip and stands up, looks to Stiles and Allison for an explanation. Allison doesn’t say anything, just sits down on the tile with her head in her hands.

Stiles runs his hands through his hair. “I have to go check on Addie.”

“She’s still asleep,” Derek says. “Are you gonna tell me what the hell just happened?”

“Scott lost control. We gave him some wolfsbane. Now he’s sleeping,” Stiles says.

“Yeah I can see that,” Derek snaps. “Why?”

Stiles ignores the question. “Are you gonna be okay, Allison?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine,” she says. She doesn’t sound fine and there are tears running down her face.

“Allison.”

She shakes her head like she can will them away.

Stiles drops down to his knees in front of her, takes her face in his hands, says, “It’s gonna be okay. We’re gonna be okay.”

He wipes her tears away with his thumbs.

Allison nods, then sniffs. “Yeah, I know,” she says, her voice breaking.

Stiles pulls her into a hug and they sit like that - just holding each other - for several minutes. Derek feels like he’s witnessing an intimate moment that he shouldn’t be but walking out doesn’t feel right either. He waits for them to pull apart, then follows Stiles back to his apartment.

Stiles doesn’t say anything, just starts walking down the hall to his bedroom.

“Stiles,” Derek tries.

“Go to sleep, Derek,” Stiles says and shuts his bedroom door.

Derek stands in the hallway staring at Stiles’ door for several minutes. He wants to go in there and demand an explanation but he’s pretty sure he’s not going to get anything out of him unless Stiles wants him to. He goes back to Stiles’ office and lays down on the futon. He doesn’t fall back asleep.

When the sun starts to come up, before anyone else is awake, Derek goes out to the preserve and runs. He runs for hours, till he’s dripping in sweat. He doesn’t know why he’s still in Beacon Hills, why he hasn’t just sold the land, why the trees are dying or why he cares, why Scott lost control and it’s probably not the first time, or why Stiles won’t just talk to Derek, won’t just tell him what’s going on, why Derek even cares.

He just- he doesn’t know and it’s all getting under his skin. Beacon Hills is getting under his skin and the only thing he can do is run until all he can feel is his muscles aching and his heart pounding in his chest.

He gets back to the apartment, drenched in sweat, around mid-morning. Stiles is in the kitchen, sitting at the table with his laptop, like everything’s okay, like Scott didn’t almost kill him and Allison last night. All Derek wants to do is take a shower.

Stiles takes one look at him and says, “Uh, Allison is getting Addie ready in the bathroom. You can use mine.”

Derek nods, then walks down the hall, past the bathroom where Allison is brushing Addie’s hair, gets a change of clothes from his suitcase, then walks through Stiles’ bedroom and into his bathroom. He’s never been in it before. It’s nice. It has a huge tub and a corner shower with glass walls.

Derek turns the shower on, let’s the steam build up while he takes off his clothes, then steps in and stands under the water.

He hears the bedroom door open while he’s rinsing the soap off his body. He figures Stiles is just getting something from the bedroom but Stiles comes into the bathroom. He stands there staring at Derek through the glass and the steam, then starts to undress.

Derek stands under the stream of water, watching as Stiles pulls his shirt up over his head, then the sock off of each foot, followed by his pants and boxer-briefs.

He’s beautiful. There’s a sort of grace to his movements- where he used to be awkward and unrefined before, he’s steady and sure now. He’s grown into his long limbs, filled out. His chest is broad and his stomach is defined. The muscles tighten to keep him balanced as he pulls each piece of clothing off.

When all his clothes are off, he walks over to the shower, pulls the door open and steps inside. Derek steps back to give him room but Stiles grabs his hand and places it on the back of his neck, then leans into him, buries his face in Derek’s neck. At first Derek thinks Stiles is asking him to take away some pain, but when he tries, nothing comes, nothing more than the normal aches and pains that generally come with a human body.

Stiles brings his hands up to Derek’s hips and Derek instinctively wraps his other arm around Stiles, then turns his face to bury his nose in Stiles’ hair. They stand like that under the water for several minutes until Stiles takes a deep breath in and pushes himself off Derek. Derek let’s his hands fall away and watches Stiles pour some shampoo into his hand, then massage it into his scalp. Derek moves to let him rinse it out.

Stiles doesn’t say a single word the entire time and when he’s done, he just turns the water off, hands a towel to Derek, dries himself off with another. He gets dressed and scrubs the towel over his wet hair like he didn’t just walk in on Derek in the shower, like he didn’t just join him and press his body against Derek’s. Then he walks out of the bathroom and through the bedroom, just leaves Derek in there like nothing happened.

But that’s not the problem. The problem is that Derek wants to follow him, wants to pull him back into the shower, or down onto the bed, or even just hold him in his arms a little bit longer. Derek wants to breathe him in, wants to touch him, wants to taste him.

What he ends up doing is driving to the nearest book store. He needs to figure out what’s going on in the preserve so he can sell the land and get back to New York, back to his life that doesn’t include Stiles messing with his head. He looks through the entire Science and Nature section to see if he can find anything, but after four hours, he comes up with nothing so he drives back to the apartment.

Stiles isn’t the only one there. Allison and Addie are back from wherever they went earlier and Scott, Isaac, Kira, and Parrish have joined them. They look a little surprised to see Derek just walk in using the key Stiles gave him earlier in the week but they don’t say anything other than to greet him.

Isaac’s in the kitchen preparing some kind of food. Parrish is in the living room with Addie, showing her how to do something with a piece of paper; it looks like he’s folding it into an airplane. Derek sits with Stiles, Scott, Allison, and Kira at the table.

They’re not talking about anything in particular- just catching each other up on the past week of their lives. Allison talks about her thesis for grad school. Kira complains about one of the other teachers she works with, says she can’t wait for winter break to start. Nobody says anything about what happened the night before.

At some point Addie and Parrish come into the kitchen. Stiles pulls Addie into his lap and starts tickling her. She squeals in delight and squirms around laughing but doesn’t try to get away. When Stiles stops, she just stays there, starts scribbling in a coloring book that was on the table. She seems completely content to just sit in her dad’s lap and he’s completely content to let her.

They sit like that, everyone gathered around the table while Isaac makes what smells like enchiladas in the kitchen until the doorbell rings. Addie jumps out of Stiles’ lap and runs to the door with Stiles right behind her. It’s Lydia, who goes straight to the kitchen to make a cup of coffee like she lives here. She’s comfortable here. Everyone seems comfortable here. It reminds Derek of what it used to be like when he was a kid- when he lived in a big house with a big family and caring about people didn’t put them in danger.

When Stiles comes back to the table, he grabs the coloring book from where he was sitting and sits in the chair next to Derek. Addie climbs right back into his lap and starts coloring again. Derek looks at him and Stiles stares back, daring him to say something about it. Derek doesn’t say anything. He presses his thigh along Stiles’ and revels in the proximity.

After they eat, Kira takes out a piece of paper and starts tearing it in to small pieces.

“Derek, you’re going to be part of our secret santa this year, right?” she asks him.

Derek didn’t know they did a secret santa. He’s not sure why they would even want him to participate in it. He’s not part of the pack; they barely know him now. This is obviously a tradition of theirs, a tradition he’s not a part of. Plus, Christmas isn’t for three weeks and he really doesn’t plan on being here that long. He hadn’t planned on being here as long as he already has been.

Stiles elbows him. “Yes, Derek is going to experience the joy of Christmas with us.”

Derek would protest but there’s no point. He wouldn’t just be arguing with Stiles, he’d be arguing with all of them; and he really doesn’t want to.

Kira writes everybody’s name down on a scrap of paper then throws them in a bowl. They pass the bowl around for everybody to draw a name. Kira draws an extra one for Malia and Lydia draws an extra one for Danny.

Derek draws Allison’s name, which is probably not the best possible outcome considering their special history but at least Stiles can help him. He seems to know Allison better than just about anybody these days.

It’s late by the time everyone starts to leave. Addie’s already in bed. Allison and Scott stay to help clean up. Derek can’t help watching Stiles and Allison. They’re at the sink washing the dishes together. They’re comfortable. They have no sense of personal space with each other, not the way they do with most other people. They keep bumping into each other and when Stiles reaches around her, his hand brushes over her lower back. And they keep laughing but it doesn’t sound like they’re actually talking about anything.

If he didn’t know any better, he’d think they were a couple. Watching them, he’s not entirely convinced they’re not.

Scott breaks him from his thoughts. “You get used to it.”

Derek stops cleaning the table to look at where Scott’s wiping down a chair Addie spilled juice on. “What?”

Scott nods in the direction of Allison and Stiles. “It’s just how they are now because of Addie.”

Derek looks back at them. They’re laughing again.

“After awhile you don’t really notice it anymore and the jealousy goes away,” Scott says.

“I’m not jealous.”

Scott levels him with an especially unimpressed look.

“I’m not,” Derek insists. “I’m going back to New York as soon as I sell the land anyways.”

“Uh huh. Any particular reason it’s taking so long?”

“Any particular reason I had to hold you down so your best friend could shoot you up with wolfsbane last night?”

“Fair enough,” Scott says. Then, “Just- Stiles isn’t the only one who wants you to stay, Derek.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this chapter is where the story finally earns its Explicit rating.
> 
> Thank you guys so much for your comments and kudos thus far! You've all been so kind and so lovely. I really appreciate it and I hope you enjoy this chapter. I'm thinking there will be 3-4 more after this. Don't forget to come say hi on [tumblr!](http://pickasalvatore.tumblr.com/)

It’s almost after noon by the time Derek wakes up on Sunday. Stiles is in the living room standing in front of the window, watching the rain pour down outside. His hair’s all messy from where he slept on it and he’s in sweats and a hoodie, like he didn’t bother taking a shower this morning. Addie’s sitting on the couch watching cartoons, still in her pjs.

Derek gets the urge to walk up behind Stiles, wrap his arms around him, bury his face in his neck; but he’s not Stiles’ husband. Or his boyfriend. Not even his friend, not really. He’s just a guest in his home, so he doesn’t do any of the things he wants to, just makes himself a cup of coffee now that he knows how to use the Keurig, then stands next to Stiles at the window, watches the rain come down.

“I hated the rain when I was a kid,” Stiles says. “I always felt so trapped.”

“And now?” Derek prompts, curious.

“Now,” Stiles claps his hands together, “it’s the perfect reason to stay inside and decorate for Christmas.”

They spend the rest of the day decorating the apartment with Addie in their pajamas.

Later in the day, Scott and Allison come over to help. It doesn’t look like they bothered taking showers either and they both look exhausted. They have dark circles under their eyes and there’s the lingering scent of wolfsbane on them. Derek wonders if Scott lost control again, wonders why nobody is talking about it, why they’re not talking to Derek about it. But then, he’s not talking to them about anything either.

Scott and Stiles start assembling a fake Christmas tree - the building doesn’t allow real ones - while Derek and Allison help Addie string popcorn to hang on the tree. Allison mostly just sits there drinking coffee. Every time she tries to get the popcorn on the string, her hands start shaking. At first Derek thought it was from the caffeine but the overwhelming scent of frustration billowing off of her makes him think otherwise, makes him think this isn’t the first time it’s happened.

Derek’s starting to wonder if Scott’s pack isn’t doing as well as they seemed to be. Maybe they didn’t figure it all out. Maybe Derek isn’t the only one who’s had trouble putting the pieces of his life back together. He wonders how much worse it would be for them if he had stayed.

Once the tree is up and the ornaments are hung, Scott and Allison leave, taking Addie with them. Derek wants to ask about the pack; about why Scott is having trouble controlling the shift and not just on full moons; about why Allison, a master archer, can’t even keep her hands steady enough to put a piece of popcorn on some string; but he doesn’t think Stiles will tell him anything. So he asks a different question.

“Why don’t Scott and Allison want anybody to know they’re back together?”

Stiles is washing his hands at the sink. He turns off the water and shakes them out. “It’s new.”

“It’s not new,” Derek counters.

“It just doesn’t seem like it because you missed the last ten years,” Stiles says as he dries his hands off with a towel. “The last time they were together was high school and I don’t think I need to remind you how that ended. A lot has happened since then, a lot has changed. There are other people’s feelings to think about now.”

“Like yours?” Derek doesn’t mean for it to come out but Scott was right. Stiles’ relationship with Allison does bother him.

Stiles leans back against the counter, works his jaw. “Not mine, no. I told you Allison and I were never together, not like that.”

“Doesn’t mean you don’t want to be.”

“It’d be so much easier if we felt that way about each other. Would’ve been better than ‘hey we’re both unhappy, let’s hurt everybody we know.’”

Derek looks at Stiles, waits for him to elaborate.

Stiles sighs. “Scott, obviously. He never stopped loving Allison and I knew. We all knew. But I did it anyways. And Isaac and Allison were barely broken up the first time it happened. Same with me and Malia. And then in college, me and Lydia, we weren’t together but we were- we were something. Or we could’ve been, maybe. I don’t know but it doesn’t matter because then I got her best friend pregnant… And there was that time I was dating Parrish, though we weren’t exclusive so that probably doesn’t count.”

Derek takes a minute to let it all soak in. He feels a pang of jealousy, though he’s not sure if it’s from hearing that Stiles had something with all of those other people or if it’s-

“You keep coming back to Allison.”

Stiles doesn’t hesitate for a second when he says, “No.”

Derek looks at him, doubtful.

“It was always just a distraction. We haven’t even slept together since before Addie was born.”

“So you’ve dated other people then?” Derek’s not sure why he keeps pushing. It shouldn’t matter. He shouldn’t care who Stiles has been with, shouldn’t feel his chest tighten when he hears about it.

“Not since college. I’m not going to bring someone outside the pack around Addie. Makes it kind of hard to have a relationship with someone,” Stiles says.

Derek pointedly doesn’t think about what it means that Stiles didn’t hesitate to bring him around his daughter.

“That’s a long time not to have sex,” he says instead.

Stiles laughs. “That’s what business trips are for.”

Derek’s not sure if he’s joking or not, decides he doesn’t really want to know.

Stiles walks over to the living room and stands in front of the Christmas tree, examining it. It’s dark out and the lights from the Christmas tree illuminate the room.

Derek walks over, stands next to him. “I didn’t know you liked Christmas so much.”

“I hate Christmas. This is all for Addie,” Stiles says. There’s a hint of sorrow in his voice.

Derek looks at him, watches his eyes dance over the tree, moving from ornament to ornament.

Stiles turns to him. He lifts his hand to Derek’s face, traces a finger over his brow slowly, then runs his thumb over Derek’s bottom lip, light as a feather, his eyes searching Derek’s. He moves in and brushes his lips against Derek’s, then brings both hands to the back of Derek’s head, runs his fingers through his hair and kisses him again, this time with intent. Derek melts into it, brings his hands up to Stiles’ waist and holds on tight.

Kissing Stiles is not at all what Derek thought it would be. He thought it would be frenzied, hungry, with scrambling hands and harsh clashes of mouths. But it’s unhurried, deliberate. Stiles kisses with his whole body, leans into Derek, his hands moving slow and firm from Derek’s hair, down his neck to his chest, clutching his shirt, then back up to cup his face. By the time Stiles starts to pull away, Derek is completely breathless. When he opens his eyes, Stiles smiles, soft, says, “Good night, Derek.”

Derek watches him walk off to his room, wondering if Stiles has any idea what he’s doing to Derek, if he has any idea what he’s always done to him.

\---

It rains the rest of the week so Derek doesn’t make it out to the preserve. He tries to do research on his laptop but he has no idea where to start and everything he looks into is a dead end. He should probably just ask Stiles for help- he was always the one who knew where to look, what thread to pull at, but Derek never brings it up, never asks for help.

He pretends like it has nothing to do with the fact that Stiles keeps kissing him- just keeps moving into Derek’s space, then kisses him with his entire body, runs his hands over Derek, leaves him breathless, leaves him wanting. He pulls Derek into the shower with him twice, kisses him with everything he has, then just shampoos his hair and gets out.

The thing is, Derek doesn’t even care that it doesn’t go any further. He wants to fuck Stiles, sure. But what he wants even more is to know what’s going on in Stiles’ mind, wants to know what Stiles is thinking when he kisses Derek like it’s the only thing that matters in the world, then just walks away like it never happened.

But Derek doesn’t ask, too afraid that asking will make it stop.

It starts to snow about an hour before they leave to pick Addie up from school on her last day before winter break. When they get there, Addie runs out of the classroom laughing. She throws her head back and sticks her tongue out, trying to catch the snowflakes in her mouth. Stiles looks at her like she hung the moon.

It strikes Derek then- he’s never seen Stiles look at Allison like that. Not even for a second. Stiles never even steals glances in her direction. He looks at her with affection, with concern, even admiration, but there’s nothing more. He looks at her the way he looks at Scott, actually, like he just wants to make it all okay for them.

And isn’t that what he’s been telling Derek all along? Isn’t that why he took that job he didn’t want, why he started to work from home so Allison could go back to school, why he won’t tell her and Scott about what he thinks is wrong with Addie, probably why nobody knows about his migraines. When Stiles said he loves his family more than he dislikes his job, he wasn’t just talking about Allison and Addie, he was talking about the entire pack.

Derek wonders when the last time Stiles did something for himself was, wonders if that’s what he’s doing with Derek.

Then a snowball hits him right in his chest. Derek is pulled from his thoughts and looks to Stiles, who points to Addie. There’s a mischievous look on his face and he’s biting his lip.

Derek squints his eyes, then lunges for Stiles who yelps and grabs Addie, holding her in front of him like a shield.

“Don’t shoot. I have a precious pumpkin,” he yells.

Derek rolls his eyes, fond, and smashes a handful of snow on top of Stiles’ head; then takes Addie - who is laughing in delight - and runs to use the side of the building as a shield. He has Addie pack snowballs as big as her little hands can make, while he launches them in the direction of Stiles who is pretending to have a hard time getting to them against the snowballs.

When he finally makes it to them, Addie is still squealing in amusement. He points to her, says, “Traitor!”

She runs and he goes after her, lets her get a few yards, before scooping her up and spinning around, then collapses to the ground.

“I surrender,” he says. Then fans his arms and legs out to make a snow angel with Addie sitting on top of him, still giggling.

“You too, Derek!” Addie calls.

He goes over and lays down next to them, starts moving his limbs back and forth. He looks over at Stiles, who’s looking up at the sky, the snow falling down on him. Lately his eyes have been dark, but right now they’re glowing, amber warm and full of life. His lips are red and the tip of his nose is pink. There’s a snowflake caught in his dark eyelashes. He’s absolutely beautiful. It takes Derek’s breath away.

Addie climbs off of Stiles and onto Derek’s stomach, presses her little gloved hands to his cheeks. She leans down and touches her nose to his - something he’s only seen her do with Stiles - then starts giggling and gets up to run around in the snow.

It’s such a simple gesture but it fills him with warmth, leaves him smiling for hours.

They spend another twenty minutes playing in the snow, until Stiles is shivering from where the snow soaked through his clothes. When they get back to the apartment, Stiles makes hot chocolate and they spend the rest of the afternoon watching Addie’s favorite Christmas movies under a big blanket on the couch.

They’re watching The Polar Express when Derek notices that Stiles’ eyes are shut but he’s not sleeping. He takes Stiles’ hand in his under the blanket and immediately starts to draw the pain out. Stiles’ body sags in relief and Derek doesn’t understand why Stiles won’t just ask for help, why he sits there in pain, completely miserable, until Derek figures it out on his own.

When it’s all gone, Stiles laces their fingers together and leans into Derek just a little. Derek wants to pull him in close, pull him against him but he gets it. Addie’s there and that would just confuse her. He settles for Stiles’ hand loosely locked in his, contentment rolling off Stiles and filling Derek’s nose.

\---

On Saturday the contentment is completely gone. Stiles gets a call in the morning from one of his bigger clients. Derek’s not really sure what happened but whatever it is, Stiles has to fix it. It’s the most stressed Derek has seen him since he’s been back in Beacon Hills. Stiles spends the entire weekend bent over his laptop, pulling at his hair and rubbing his eyes. He even asks Allison to take Addie for a few days and books a flight to fly down to Los Angeles for Monday morning. He says he’s only going for the day and he’s gone before Derek wakes up.

Derek doesn’t really know what to do with himself without Stiles there which is absolutely ridiculous because he kept himself busy just fine while Stiles worked all those other days. But the apartment feels empty without him. Derek doesn’t like it.

He distracts himself by making phone calls he’s been putting off. He starts by returning Gene’s numerous messages. He tells him that he needs more time to make up his mind and Gene tells him that he’s willing to negotiate the price, that he’s willing to pay more, that he wants to get started on the camp as soon as possible. Derek doesn’t bother mentioning that it’s probably too cold and too wet to do anything right now anyways, just tells him he’ll let him know when he makes a decision.

He really doesn’t like that guy.

Next he calls his boss just to check in and make sure he’s still on schedule.

Finally, he calls Cora.

The first thing she says when she picks up is, “So you’re living with him?”

Derek hasn’t told her anything about Stiles since that initial conversation and he doesn’t think Stiles would tell her but then again, they were in contact for a year and he had no idea.

“How the hell do you know that?” he asks. Then adds, “And I’m not living with him. I’m staying in his spare room.”

“Whatever. Have you confessed your undying love to him yet?”

“I don’t love him, Cora,” he intones.

He can practically hear her roll her eyes over the phone. “Right. It’s not like you ever risked your life trying to protect his or anything.”

“I risked my life trying to protect all of their lives,” he argues.

“Did you leave Beacon Hills because you accidentally re-anchored yourself to all of them too?”

“That’s not what happened, Cora.”

“Isn’t it?”

Derek doesn’t answer. He doesn’t know how to explain what happened, mostly because he’s still not even sure what happened himself. He doesn’t know when he stopped using anger as an anchor, didn’t even realize he was using Stiles - Stiles’ humanity - not until he thought it was gone, not until Stiles’ was throwing him across his loft and Chris Argent was pointing a gun at him.

Derek didn’t even stick around long enough to see Stiles once he was back to himself, once he was Stiles again; just packed up some things and got the hell out of Beacon Hills, never looked back. He ignored Stiles’ calls, his texts, his emails for an entire year, until the night he shut his phone off and never saw it again.

It took him another year to stop dreaming about Stiles. It wasn’t until he figured out how to anchor himself to his own humanity that the dreams stopped.

He never figured out how to stop thinking about Stiles. To stop thinking about any of them.

But he never, not once, regretted leaving- at least not until he came back. Still, he knows it was the best thing he could do for any of them. They didn’t need another problem to solve. Derek wasn’t their responsibility. They were supposed to be his and he let them down time and again. Leaving the town in Scott’s hands was the best way he could protect it, protect all of them.

Cora doesn’t ask him anything else about Stiles. She catches him up on her life- her job, her girlfriend, their upcoming vacation to visit the pack in South America for Christmas. Derek tells her what he’s learned about Scott’s pack- Lydia and Danny live in Palo Alto, Scott’s almost finished with veterinary school, Allison’s getting a graduate degree in criminal psychology, Isaac’s a nurse at the hospital- though he has a feeling she already knows all of it.

They talk for an hour before they say their goodbyes.

“It’s okay to love him, Derek,” is the last thing Cora says before she hangs up.

\---

Stiles doesn’t get home until midnight. Derek waits up for him. He wouldn’t be able to sleep anyways.

That’s what business trips are for plays over and over in the back of his mind.

“Hey,” Stiles says, tired, when he walks in.

He’s wearing a suit, complete with a tie. Derek hasn’t seen him in anything other than jeans or sweats since he got here. It’s not a bad look on him, not at all.

“How’d it go?” Derek asks.

Stiles sets his bags on the counter. “Fine,” he sighs. “Only took twelve hours in that god forsaken office but everything’s taken care of now.”

He takes off his blazer, lays it over his bags, then tugs his tie loose and starts rolling up his sleeves.

He looks so… constrained. Derek wants to see him let go, wants to make him let go. He’s on his feet before he even knows what he’s doing. He walks up behind Stiles, cages him in against the counter- his hands setting on top of it on either side of Stiles. He noses at Stiles’ neck- smells him underneath the scent of unfamiliar people and unfamiliar places. He kisses his neck, eliciting a shudder from him, then says, “I’m glad you’re back” against his skin.

Stiles turns his head and catches their mouths together, his hand reaching back to hold Derek’s head, to pull at his hair. It’s not like the other kisses they’ve shared. It’s heated and wet, and it’s not long before Stiles turns around completely and pushes his body up against Derek’s. He wraps his arms around Derek’s neck, gasps when Derek slides his hands over the swell of his ass, then down to his thighs, picking him up and wrapping his legs around his body.

Stiles grinds his hips against Derek’s and doesn’t take his mouth off him the entire way to the bedroom. When Derek lays him down on the bed, Stiles pulls him on top of him, says, “I want you to fuck me.” There’s no hesitation, no doubt in his voice.

Derek wants to tell Stiles that he’ll do anything he asks him to. Instead he leans down, kisses him deep, and says, “Okay” against his mouth.

It takes them awhile to get all of their clothes off. Stiles doesn’t seem to want to take his mouth off of Derek’s and Derek doesn’t want him to. When there’s nothing but skin between them, Stiles throws his arm out to rifle through the drawer next to the bed. He pulls out a bottle of lube, pushes it against Derek’s chest and goes right back to kissing him. Derek does his best to open the bottle and slick his fingers up without looking, then reaches down between them, past their already hard cocks, and slides his fingers back until they find Stiles’ hole.

When Derek pushes the first finger in, Stiles gasps and lets his head fall back against the pillow. Derek takes the opportunity to pull back. He sits back on his knees and watches his finger move in and out of Stiles.

Stiles adjusts to him quick, just opens right up for every finger Derek adds. In no time at all he’s panting out, “I’m ready, I’m ready, Derek, I’m ready.”

“Condom?” Derek asks.

“Werewolf, right?” Stiles says. Then, “Unless you want-”

“No, no condom,” Derek says. He wants to feel as much of Stiles as possible. He grabs the bottle of lube and slicks his cock up then moves to line up with Stiles.

“Wait, wait,” Stiles says and Derek thinks he’s changed his mind about the condom, but he just rolls over onto his elbows and knees. “Like this.”

Derek has a perfect view of him like this- of his tight little ass and his loose hole, dripping with lube. Derek can’t remember the last time he was this turned on, the last time he wanted somebody this bad. He takes a deep breath in, then runs his hands over Stiles’ ass, spreading him, and lines up. He pushes in slowly, at least as slow as he can. When he bottoms out, he stays there, giving Stiles time to adjust, but Stiles immediately starts pushing back against him.

Stiles fucks like he’s desperate for it, like he needs it. He pushes back to meet every thrust of Derek’s. His fingers grip at the sheets and he pants out needy little sounds while Derek fucks into him. Because of course the one time Stiles would actually talk, would actually tell Derek what’s going on in his head would be when he’s stretched on Derek’s cock, when he’s somehow taking Derek apart with every little sound that comes out of his mouth.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck-”

Derek almost loses it when Stiles chokes out Derek, all broken and vulnerable. He grabs Stiles’ hips, holds him still against him, tries to hold off. He wants this to last as long as possible. He leans forward onto his left hand and threads his fingers with Stiles’ on the bed, grips the sheets with him.

Stiles starts moving again- rolls his hips back, works himself on Derek’s cock. Derek wraps his right hand around Stiles, starts stroking him, watches his back arch then straighten out over and over as he fucks himself against Derek, until finally Stiles stills, his muscles tightening around Derek while he shudders through his orgasm. It’s the only time he stops making noise.

After a few seconds, still panting, Stiles says, “Derek. Fuck me. Fuck me ‘til you come.”

Derek moans, low in his throat, and starts moving his hips again, hand still clasped over Stiles’ on the bed. It only takes a few thrusts before he feels pleasure explode through his body and he’s coming inside Stiles, filling him up and collapsing against him.

He lays on top of Stiles, trying to catch his breath until Stiles grumbles, “Can’t breathe” after a few minutes.

Derek rolls off of him. “Sorry.”

“No sorry. Good, so good,” Stiles murmurs, already falling asleep.

Derek shakes his head, fond, then kisses Stiles’ shoulder and gets up to find something to clean them off.

He falls asleep content, wrapped around Stiles and breathing in the scent of them.

\---Chapter?

Derek wakes up alone in Stiles’ bed. He forces himself to get up and leave the warmth that smells like Stiles, smells like them, and pulls on the clothes he was wearing the night before.

Stiles is in the kitchen, leaning over Scott, who is sitting at the table with a laptop. When Derek walks out of Stiles’ room instead of the office, Scott shoots him a pointed look but only says, “Hey.”

Derek grunts in acknowledgement and Stiles hands him the cup of coffee he was holding, then goes to make a new one.

Derek resists the urge to follow him, to press himself against him, to kiss him. He sits at the table with Scott who is scrolling through something on the laptop. Derek can’t see what it is from where he’s sitting but Scott looks worn out and defeated, like he’s been doing this for hours already. There’s tension in the air and it’s not because Derek came out of Stiles’ room. Scott and Stiles both reek of frustration.

Scott keeps giving Stiles discontented looks, and Stiles keeps ignoring them. He’s still standing in front of the Keurig, though the coffee’s been ready for several minutes. He bends over - elbows on the counter, his face in his hands - and starts rubbing his eyes. He makes a noise that’s a mix of frustration and pain.

Derek looks to Scott, who shakes his head and shrugs like there’s nothing he can do, like he already tried to help and Stiles wouldn’t let him.

Derek walks over to Stiles and puts his hand on his back. He moves it up and down a few times along Stiles’ spine, then sweeps under the hem of his shirt to find skin, resting it on Stiles’ lower back. It’s the kind of intimate touch that probably shouldn’t be happening in front of Scott but Stiles doesn’t say anything; he actually sighs in relief when Derek starts taking the pain.

“Come here,” Derek whispers.

Stiles doesn’t move so Derek steps in closer and tugs on his arm. Stiles still doesn’t move, just pulls at his hair in frustration.

“Hey, hey,” Derek says. He doesn’t know what’s going on, doesn’t know what Scott and Stiles have been doing all morning, what has them so on edge but he does know that Stiles refuses to ask for help, that he’s so concerned with taking care of the people around him he completely neglects his own needs.

Keeping his hand on Stiles’ back to take the pain, Derek wraps his other arm around him and pulls him up against his chest. Stiles resists at first but when Derek doesn’t let go, he relents, let’s Derek pull him in and buries his face in Derek’s neck, his arms folded between them.

Stiles seems so small like this, so fragile. Derek wants to protect him, wants to keep him safe. He’s not even sure what from but in this moment - Stiles wrapped in his arms, Scott watching them curiously - Derek knows that not a single thing has changed since he left Beacon Hills. He’d still do anything to make sure Stiles is okay, to make sure all of them are okay. He left for ten years and it didn’t make a damn difference.

They stay like that - Stiles wrapped in Derek’s arms and Scott pretending not to be paying attention - for several minutes until Derek hears Allison and Addie come out of their apartment. Stiles may have given in and let Derek help him but he probably wouldn’t be okay with Addie seeing him like this so Derek whispers, “Incoming.”

Stiles pulls back to look at Derek in confusion just as the front door opens and Addie comes running in, yelling, “Daddy!”

“Hey, pun’kin,” he says, picking her up to give her a kiss on the cheek. “I missed you.”

They pretend like everything’s just as it should be, like they were just having a normal, completely ordinary morning. Maybe they were. It’s becoming increasingly apparent to Derek that he doesn’t really know what a normal morning in Beacon Hills is.

Derek, Scott, and Stiles take Addie to the Sheriff and Melissa’s house to hang up Christmas lights and decorate. It takes most of the day and by the time they’re done, everybody’s exhausted. They go back to Stiles’ apartment and order a pizza. After they eat, Scott takes off and Stiles puts Addie to bed early- she was falling asleep eating her pizza. He says goodnight to Derek and goes to his bedroom alone. Derek doesn’t want to sleep on the futon again, not after he knows what it’s like to sleep next to Stiles, but he gets it. Addie’s here and they’re not together anyways.

Stiles starts to pull away after that. He stops moving into Derek’s space, stops kissing him senseless, stops kissing him all together. He doesn’t ignore Derek but he’s distant, like Derek is just a roommate, someone he’s just renting out space to.

On the mornings that Addie isn’t there, he’s gone before Derek even wakes up. Derek has no idea where he goes, where he spends all day at if not in the apartment, but he can never bring himself to ask and Stiles never tells him.

Derek ends up spending time with the other members of the pack. Isaac actually agrees to get lunch with him one day and they talk, really talk. Derek wouldn’t say they’re friends now, or even that they’re okay, but they’re better. Isaac even smiles a few times and when they’re walking back to their cars, he bumps their shoulders together. After everything Derek put him through, it’s something.

Kira invites him out for drinks with her and Parrish one night. He meets them at a bar where Malia serves them- apparently she co-owns the place. Hanging out with them is easy. They don’t really know him, only know the things they’ve heard and the few experiences they had with him before he left, but they don’t have any real expectations of him. He actually ends up enjoying himself, though that might have something to do with the wolfsbane-laced shots they feed him.

Apparently, the pack has learned a few things about various plants and herbs over the years.

What he likes most about Kira and Parrish is that they don’t push, they don’t pry, they just joke and laugh with him. They seem perfectly content to just be in the moment with him, to not ask after the life he used to have or the life that’s waiting for him in New York. They don’t look at him like he let them down, like he’s disappointed them. It’s simple with them. They don’t know him but they’re not actually strangers- they know who he is, know what he is, and he knows he can trust them. He may not be part of their pack but they’re part of Scott’s pack and that’s good enough for him.

He even helps Scott work on his bike, while they pointedly do not discuss any of the things that have happened over the past few weeks. He can tell Scott wants to but there’s something holding him back. Derek wonders if it’s the same thing that’s holding him back from selling the land already.

He never ends up asking Stiles for help shopping for Allison. It’s kind of difficult when Stiles keeps avoiding Derek by busying himself with other things. Instead Derek racks his brain for everything he knows about Allison, which is surprisingly little, given how much time he’s spent around her the last few weeks. He knows she’s majoring in criminal psychology, she’s a mother, she still has an affinity for braids, and she likes chocolate. But the one thing he keeps coming back to is that she’s an expert archer. And she’s an expert archer because she’s an Argent. And Derek actually knows a thing or two about the Argents and their family history.

Like the fact that one of their traditions is to forge a bullet out of silver after their training ends. Derek also knows that Allison never forged a silver bullet because she forged a silver arrowhead, and that arrow was how the pack discovered how to defeat the Oni. He’s also pretty sure he knows where that silver arrow still is today. He wasn’t there the night Allison almost lost her life trying to save her friends but he knows how quickly everything happened, knows how unlikely it is that in their rush to get Allison to the hospital anybody took the time to case the ground of an abandoned internment camp. It’s been ten years but Derek would bet anything that it’s still there.

He goes to Camp Oak Creek. He doesn’t know where exactly to look and the place is creepy, gives off all kinds of negative energy, but he thinks this is something Allison would like to have. She may have rejected her family’s code but she’s still a hunter, just one who hunts different things, and this is a hunter’s tradition.

It doesn’t actually take Derek that long to find. He knows immediately where everything happened that night as soon as he walks into the area. He can feel it, like the pack’s panic that they might lose her, that they might lose Stiles, is forever imbedded in the ground beneath him. 

Swept up against one of the concrete walls of the abandoned building, underneath a pile of debris, he finds the small piece of silver. The other carbon fibre and fiberglass arrows are around too and it feels incomplete to just leave them lying around so he takes the ones he sees, then gets the hell out of there.

The place reminds him of a time when Stiles was gone and Derek was afraid he was never coming back. It reminds him of how close the pack came to losing him and to losing Allison, reminds him of all the things he wasn’t strong enough to handle, of all the ways he wasn’t good enough.

He polishes the arrowhead and finds a small velvet-lined box to put it in. It looks like the kind of box that jewelry comes in. Derek smiles to himself thinking about how uncomfortable everyone is going to be when they think that’s what he’s giving her.

He also picks up something for Addie and spends half a day trying to find something for Stiles but he has no idea what kind of gift says I’m sorry if all the intimacy made you uncomfortable but I kind of really miss you and would like to be near you again, please stop pushing me away. He ends up getting him a book on deities of vengeance that he finds by accident. It reminds him of the comically angry face Stiles made every time someone would mention Matt during that summer Stiles helped him look for Erica and Boyd.

Derek wonders if Stiles ever told anybody about that summer.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one chapter left! Thank you so so so much for reading and commenting and messaging me! You are all so very wonderful! I hope you enjoy this chapter. Come say hi on [tumblr!](http://pickasalvatore.tumblr.com/)

Derek gets back from getting coffee with Parrish in the early evening on Christmas Eve. Stiles was already gone by the time Derek got up in the morning but he can hear him in his room now. Stiles hasn’t spent any time at the apartment outside of sleeping and being with Addie in days and now that he is here, he’s hiding in his room, like he’d do anything to avoid Derek.

It hurts more than it should.

It hurts even more when Derek sees an empty package like the one Stiles got at the pharmacy in the trash can. He picks it up and reads the label. It’s for migraine headaches. Stiles is still having them but instead of asking Derek for help, or even giving Derek the chance to figure it out on his own, he’s hiding. Derek has no idea where Stiles has been going when he’s not in the apartment but he’s giving himself shots wherever he is. Derek gets the image of Stiles sleeping it off in his car and suddenly he’s not hurt anymore. He’s angry. Angrier than he’s been in a very long time. He stomps down the hall and throws the door to Stiles’ bedroom open, not even bothering to knock.

Stiles is sitting on his bed, leaning against the headboard, with a large leather-bound book open in his lap. It smells old, like dust and clay. He looks up when the door flies open.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” he asks full of concern as he closes the book and puts it on the night stand.

Derek holds up the empty package he found in the garbage.

Stiles gets up and takes the package from him. Confused, he looks at Derek. “My prescription pissed you off?”

“No!” Derek shouts. “I’m angry because of your total inability to ask for help ever.”

“That’s a little rich coming from you, don’t you think?” Stiles retorts.

“I’m not the one lying to everyone I know about how much pain I’m in.”

“Debatable,” Stiles says.

“What?”

“Pot. Kettle,” Stiles says pointing to himself and then to Derek.

“You are the most infuriating person I have ever met,” Derek yells.

“What do you want me to say, Derek?” Stiles shouts back. “You already know I get migraines. You already know I take shots to get rid of them. Did you want me to detail my entire medical history for you? Would that make you feel better? Is that what you want?”

“No! I want you to let me make it better for you!”

Stiles’ mouth is on his before Derek even knows what’s happening. He melts into it anyways. It’s overwhelming after days of being completely shut out by him. Now, Stiles is licking into his mouth, biting on his bottom lip, mouthing down his jaw, his neck, biting into the flesh there.

Derek moans and lets Stiles pull his shirt up over his head, then push him down onto the bed. It’s nothing like the last time. It’s heated and rough and Derek can practically feel Stiles’ fervency through every point of contact their bodies make.

But he likes it. He likes the way Stiles is manhandling him, the way Stiles is moving against him with insistence, with intensity, like he knows exactly what he wants and he’s going to take it, like he’s going to take care of Derek. It sets Derek’s skin on fire and has him hard and aching by the time Stiles yanks his jeans and underwear off.

Stiles pushes him over onto his stomach and says, “I’m gonna fuck you.”

It’s not a question but he doesn’t start moving again until Derek nods. He gets the lube and opens Derek up quickly, barely giving him time to adjust before he’s adding more fingers. It burns and Derek knows if he didn’t have supernatural healing he’d be sore tomorrow, he kind of wishes he would be, but as it is he just wants Stiles to push him around some more and take.

Stiles pulls his fingers out and Derek sees his shirt fall to the ground out of the corner of his eyes, followed by the sound of Stiles’ unzipping his pants and pushing them down. Then Derek feels the burn of Stiles pushing in all the way, the back of his hand around Derek’s neck, holding him down. 

It should be ridiculous - the idea of Stiles being able to keep Derek down, to have any physical power over him whatsoever - but Derek revels in it. He loves the firm pressure of Stiles’ hand on his neck, anchoring him; loves the feeling of Stiles moving in and out of him with force, the weight of Stiles’ body pushing into his.

It’s the safest Derek’s felt in a long time.

Then Stiles is leaning down on his elbows, his chest flush against Derek’s back, his left arm threaded under Derek’s, fingers wrapped around his wrist, holding on tight. His lips are against Derek’s ear and he’s quickly taking him apart with the way he whispers, “Fuck, Derek, you feel so good, you’re taking it so good, Derek” while he fucks into him, hard and relentless.

It has Derek whimpering, gripping at the sheets, biting down the urge to say never let me go.

Stiles presses his lips to Derek’s neck, then bites down right on his jugular, and Derek’s coming, untouched. Stiles fucks him through it and when it becomes too sensitive and Derek whines, Stiles pulls out and pushes Derek onto his back, then leans over him and works himself off with his hand until he’s spilling over Derek’s stomach and chest.

Derek pulls him down and kisses him hard. Stiles pants against his mouth, his body a solid weight on Derek’s. They stay like that until their breathing returns to normal and Stiles’ come is drying between their skin.

“Ugh,” Stiles says, peeling himself off of Derek. “That’s unpleasant.”

“Gee, thanks.”

Stiles rolls his eyes. “You know what I mean, asshole. Come on, shower,” he says pulling Derek up. He never took his pants off all the way so he kind of stumbles when he gets off the bed and Derek has to grab his arm to steady him.

It’s sort of ludicrous that Stiles just pushed him down and fucked him senseless, never faltering once, and now he’s tripping over himself like he’s sixteen all over again; that they were just in each other’s faces, shouting, and now they’re all soft touches and smiles. It only makes Derek want him more.

By the time they’ve showered and gotten dressed, Allison is bringing Addie over so they can eat dinner together as a family. Apparently it’s a Christmas Eve tradition. Derek offers to leave so that they can be alone, just their little family, but Allison makes him stay.

They watch It’s A Wonderful Life and then Addie puts out cookies and milk for Santa. Stiles and Allison tuck her into bed and Allison goes back to her apartment.

Once Stiles locks the door, he pulls something out of his pocket and says, “I got you something for Christmas.”

“It’s not Christmas yet,” Derek says.

Stiles smiles, walks over to him, and holds a piece of fake mistletoe over them; and, because he’s an asshole, says, “I promise not to poison anyone you love with it.”

Derek glares at him pretending to be offended but it doesn’t last long because Stiles is staring back at him with his big brown eyes, waiting, and Derek realizes in that moment that Cora was right- he is completely in love with Stiles. He doesn’t know when it happened, or how, but looking at him now, Derek can hardly breathe with it.

It’s big and it’s small. It’s the way Derek would do absolutely anything to make sure Stiles is okay and the way Stiles can antagonize him with nothing but a stupid smirk. It’s the way Stiles has always driven him crazy yet somehow became the one to ground him. It’s the way that Stiles can completely take Derek apart but was always the one to come back for him, to put him back together. It’s the way Derek doesn’t care if he offends Stiles or pisses him off and the way Stiles is the one who makes him wish he was a better person. It’s the way that Stiles can sit quietly in the corner and still demand all of Derek’s attention. It’s the defiant sixteen year old kid Derek met in the woods all those years ago, the one that grew into the man Derek wishes he could be. It’s everything Stiles is. It’s Stiles.

“You know you have to kiss me. It’s the rules,” Stiles says, completely unaware of the way he’s wrecking Derek right now, undoing all of the work Derek’s done to get to a point where he could exist without destroying everyone around him.

Derek kisses him anyways. It’s soft and lingering and he knows it’s probably going to be the last time. 

\---

Derek waits until Stiles is asleep to pack his things. He wishes it wasn’t Christmas Eve, wishes Stiles and Addie weren’t going to wake up on Christmas morning to find him gone, but he knows he has to go. He can’t stay in Beacon Hills. He’s already been here too long, already let himself care too deeply about too many people again. He has to get back to New York, back to the life he knows how to live, the one where the people around him are just that- people, not pieces of him, not a reminder of the home he doesn’t have here.

He’s going to sell the land to Gene and it’ll all be over. Stiles will be mad, they all will, but they’ll get over it. They did it once and they can do it again.

And Derek will figure out how to exist without them again. It’ll take some time but if he can figure out how to un-anchor himself from Stiles, he can figure out how to fall out of love with him.

Probably.

He leaves the gifts he got for Stiles and Addie and Allison under the tree and walks out of the apartment, locking the door behind him. He thinks about leaving the key at the front desk but something stops him. He tells himself he’s not trying to keep a small piece of this life for himself, that it just doesn’t make sense to leave a key with some random person at the front desk.

He walks out the front door of the building, refusing to look back, and comes face-to-face with Allison, who has a cigarette in her hand.

She takes one look at his suitcase and says, “Are you fucking kidding me?”

She sounds furious, more so than Derek would’ve expected coming from her, of all people. But then again, he is leaving in the middle of the night without saying goodbye to her daughter.

“I left something for Addie,” he offers.

“You left something for Addie?” Allison says, incredulous. “Is that supposed to make it okay? And what about Stiles? You cannot do this to him again.”

“Stiles will get over it. He did before.”

“Do you actually believe that?”

“He knew where I was for a year and he never said a thing,” Derek says.

“And you knew where he was for ten,” Allison says, laughing but there’s no joy in it. Her hand is trembling again. She drops the cigarette and puts it out with the toe of her shoe.

Derek thinks that’s it, that she’s going to let him go, but she looks up and says, “Stiles thought you were dead for nine of those years, Derek. You have no idea what it was like after you left.”

She doesn’t wait for him to respond, just opens the door and goes back inside.

— 

Derek sits in holiday traffic in his rental car for hours before he makes it to the airport. Then, he sits at the airport all day waiting for a flight to open up so he can get out of there. He figures it’s karma for leaving in the middle of the night without saying goodbye, for leaving ten years ago and letting everybody think he was dead. It’s not that he never considered that was a possibility. He did. That was the point. He just- he didn’t think they’d care. He thought that if they believed he was dead, they would just stop worrying about him all together, just get on with their lives like he was never there at all. He never thought it would matter to them.

He keeps his phone off while he’s at the airport. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to resist answering if he sees Stiles’ name pop up on the screen, not this time. It takes thirty-six hours for him to get a flight and another six to land in New York. He doesn’t turn his phone back on until he’s safe in his apartment. He has eight missed calls- two from Cora, five from Scott, and one from Kira- and a series of text messages from Cora asking why he’s not responding, then I talked to Lydia. You’re a shit head., then Just let me know when you’re home, ok?. There’s also a bunch from Scott asking what happened, asking if he’s okay - still the caring, concerned alpha he’s always been - and one from Parrish simply wishing him a Merry Christmas.

There’s nothing from Stiles.

—

Derek tries to sell the land for a month but every time he starts to look over the papers Gene sent, he feels like his heart is going to explode. Eventually he just stops looking at them, stops returning Gene’s increasingly aggravated and somewhat frantic messages.

Cora comes over every Sunday to tell him he’s a disaster and that his apartment smells. Every time she tries to bring up Beacon Hills, ask him why he left, he picks one of his past sexual encounters to tell her about in graphic detail until she shuts up.

He doesn’t talk to anyone but his boss when he needs to and to Cora. He barely leaves his apartment. He tries to go running through Central Park but he can’t run the way he wants to, not like he can in the preserve, so he just gives up.

It’s like New York is suddenly too crowded and too empty all at once. There are too many people everywhere all the time but none of them are the right people.

He hates his stupid coffee maker that takes forever to make a pot of shitty coffee. He hates his stupid bed that smells like him, and only him. He hates making dinner, alone, for just himself. He hates the silence of reading alone, with nobody tapping their foot or drumming their fingers.

Cora was right. He never made a life for himself here. He was just existing.

But it doesn’t matter. He can’t go back to Beacon Hills. He’s not even sure why anymore, just knows that he can’t, that the best thing he can do for Scott’s pack is stay away.

He ignores the voice in his head - the one that sounds an awful lot like Cora - telling him that he’s just scared of losing his family again.

—

Derek’s been back in New York for seven weeks when his phone lights up with an incoming call from Isaac. He hasn’t heard from him since he left Beacon Hills, figured that bridge was permanently burned this time. Derek stares down at his phone, his thumb hovering over the screen, before he accepts the call. If Isaac is calling him, he must be desperate.

“Hello.”

Isaac skips the pleasantries. “Did you know Scott was having trouble controlling the shift?”

“Yes,” Derek answers. There’s no point in lying.

“And you didn’t tell anyone?”

“I thought everyone knew.”

“Don’t you think if we knew the nemeton was affecting them again we would’ve done something about it?”

“The nemeton? What are you talking about?” Derek asks, confused.

“Scott attacked Stiles,” Isaac says and Derek doesn’t even take the time to tell Isaac he’s on his way before hanging up and booking a flight to California.

By the time Derek gets to Beacon Hills, it’s already dark out. He goes to the hospital first but Stiles isn’t there. It makes Derek feel marginally better that Scott didn’t injure Stiles badly enough to hospitalize him.

He ignores the voice in his head saying maybe he injured him too badly.

He goes to Stiles’ apartment and somehow the guy at the front desk remembers him, says, “Good evening, Mr. Hale,” and waves him to the elevator.

Derek rings the doorbell but there’s nobody inside Stiles’ apartment. Allison’s is empty too. He uses the key he never took off his key ring and lets himself in.

He’s hit with the overwhelming scent of Stiles and Addie and it aches in his bones, screams home home home in his ears.

The apartment looks exactly the same as it did when he left, minus the Christmas decorations, like life continued on as normal without him. Good he thinks to himself, even though it aches deep inside him. That’s what he wanted. For them to continue on with their lives like he was never here, for them to be okay.

Except they’re not okay. Scott attacked Stiles. He’s losing control.

The nemeton.

Stiles is still having migraines. Derek can smell sulfur underneath the scent of Stiles and Addie.

The nemeton.

Allison’s hands were shaking.

The nemeton.

But they figured out how to shut it’s power off. That’s what they told him.

Maybe they lied.

Derek sits at Stiles’ kitchen table for four hours trying to wrap his head around what’s going on before Stiles walks through the front door. He smells like blood and exhaustion and pain. It takes everything Derek has not to get up and take him into his arms, to bury his nose in him, to never let go.

Stiles sighs when he sees Derek. “I want my key back.”

“Stiles-”

“Unless your saliva has healing properties, go away.”

Derek furrows his brows in confusion. “What?”

“What do you want, Derek?” Stiles asks, resigned. He winces as he lifts his arm to pull a glass out of a cupboard.

Derek stands up instinctively. He doesn’t know what’s wrong but he wants to make it better. “Isaac called me.”

“I always knew he hated me,” Stiles mutters.

“You smell like blood.”

“That might be the creepiest thing you’ve ever said to me, and that’s counting the time you told me you’d rip my throat out.”

“Stiles-”

“With your teeth.”

“Stiles-”

“WHAT?” Stiles shouts. “What do you want, Derek? Did you not do enough damage the first two times you left? Did you want to make it a nice round three? Just really make sure I know that you don’t love me back? Because I get it, Derek! I got it ten years ago and I get it now!”

He’s grabbing his side where blood is starting to soak through his shirt.

“Stiles, you’re bleeding,” Derek says, ignoring the urge to tell him just how wrong he is about everything.

Stiles laughs. “I know.”

Derek reaches out.

“Don’t,” Stiles says. He’s not laughing anymore. There are tears falling out of his eyes and he’s starting to shake. “Just go, Derek. Just get it over with.”

Derek stands there, helpless. He’s not going anywhere, not this time, but he doesn’t have the right to do anything, not anymore.

The blood coming from Stiles’ side is starting to drip onto the floor. Stiles stares down at it. “I’m bleeding,” he says, flatly, like he’s commenting on the weather, though there are still tears streaming down his face. He takes his shirt off, then peels off a bandage to show four deep gashes. They’re stitched up but he must have ripped some of the stitches because blood is coming out of one of them. Stiles balls up his shirt then presses it to his side. He toes off his shoes, leaving them on the kitchen floor where all the blood is, and walks to his bathroom.

He doesn’t protest when Derek follows.

In the bathroom, he turns the shower on, then tries to get his pants off with one hand, while the other continues to hold his shirt to his wound.

He looks at Derek impatiently. “Little help?”

Derek’s in front of him in less than a second. He helps Stiles out of his pants and underwear, then pulls the shirt away from Stiles’ side. It looks like the wound has stopped bleeding so he tosses the shirt into the sink.

Stiles just stands there staring at Derek the entire time. 

Derek feels like he should say something- explain why he left or why he came back or maybe even tell him he loves him but he doesn’t do any of that, mostly because he doesn’t see the point, doesn’t see how it would help the situation; but also because he doesn’t know how. He doesn’t think any combination of words in the English language could ever explain the things he’s feeling and the thoughts he’s having so he doesn’t say any of it. Just keeps it to himself.

Stiles gets in the shower and Derek leaves the bathroom to give him some privacy. He goes back out to the kitchen but keeps his ears tuned to the bathroom to make sure Stiles doesn’t pass out and hit his head or something equally damaging. He wipes up the blood Stiles dripped all over the kitchen floor and tries to get as much blood off of Stiles’ shoes as he can. He still doesn’t understand how all of this is tied to the nemeton, not if they shut it’s power off. It doesn’t make any sense.

The nemeton was basically dead until Stiles, Scott, and Allison sacrificed themselves to find their parents. They woke it back up. They were it’s life force. It took from them and it took from them and then it took some more and it drew other supernatural creatures to Beacon Hills. It opened a door in their minds but they shut that door. It released the nogitsune but they bottled it back up. And then they shut the nemeton down completely so it couldn’t take anymore. Derek doesn’t know how but he knows they did. He remembers that phone call from Scott like it was yesterday. He remembers the relief he felt. He remembers feeling, for the first time, that they would be okay. They would be okay because they had each other and because they were good and they deserved it and that’s just how it works. They would be okay because Derek wasn’t there and they didn’t need him and they were better off without him.

But Derek left and they’re not okay and the nemeton is taking from them again and the pack isn’t as stable and settled as he believed and the preserve is dying-

“What did you just say?”

Derek looks up from where he’s been scrubbing Stiles’ shoes. Stiles is standing at the edge of the kitchen, freshly showered in clean jeans and a t-shirt, his hair soaking wet. He’s staring at Derek with a look on his face like he thinks Derek is crazy or he can’t believe how stupid Derek is or maybe a combination of the two. Derek can’t really tell.

“Derek, what did you just say?” Stiles asks again, impatient.

“I didn’t say anything,” Derek answers slowly.

“Yes. Yes, you did. About the preserve dying?” Stiles insists.

Derek must have been thinking out loud. He didn’t know that was a thing he did. There’s a lot he doesn’t know, he supposes.

“The trees in the preserve are dying,” he repeats. “Or at least some of them are. I don’t- I don’t really know.”

“And you didn’t think to mention this to anybody?” Stiles asks, incredulous. He pulls his shoes from Derek’s hands and shoves his feet into them.

“I didn’t know it was important.”

“Of course you didn’t,” Stiles shoots back. “How would you possibly know anything at all when all you do is run away?”

“That’s not fair,” Derek says, but he knows it is. It’s fair and it’s true and it’s what he deserves.

Stiles doesn’t argue, at least not verbally, just refuses to look Derek in the eye as he pushes past him for the front door.

“Where are you going?” Derek asks. It’s the middle of the night and Stiles was bleeding all over the kitchen no more than twenty minutes ago. Leaving so soon doesn’t seem like the smartest idea.

“I’m going to go be part of a pack,” Stiles says. It’s a simple statement but it packs a lot of punch. Stiles has people that rely on him, people he cares about and that care about him. He has people that trust him and that need him and people that expect him to actually save them, or at least to show up. All Derek has is a sister that’s never needed him and an uncanny ability to flee.

That and a dying preserve.

He follows Stiles down to his car. Stiles doesn’t protest but he’s clearly not happy to have Derek tagging along. Derek is pretty sure the only reason Stiles is even allowing Derek to breathe the same air as him at this point is because Derek has information that may be relevant. He can’t really blame Stiles. He’s given him more than enough reasons not to trust Derek and not to want him around. But Stiles is sucking it up because at some point he learned to put the people he cares about first. Derek used to think that’s what he was doing but he’s not so sure anymore. He’s starting to realize that maybe everything he’s done, every choice he’s made in the last ten years was selfish, just a way to shield himself from any more pain or loss.

By the time Stiles and Derek arrive at the animal clinic it’s almost two in the morning. Scott’s already there - stinking up the place with guilt - combing through books with Isaac.

“Where’s Allison?” is the first thing Stiles says when they get inside. Then, at the concerned look on both Scott’s and Isaac’s faces, “I’m fine. I just ripped some stitches.”

“Let me see,” Isaac says, then pulls out a small first aid kit with materials to re-suture Stiles’ wound.

“Allison went to Argent’s to check on Addie and get some sleep,” Scott says. He looks from Stiles to Derek and back again. He’s asking Stiles a question without actually saying the words. Derek’s best guess is Why the hell is he here?

Stiles confirms when he says, “Apparently the preserve is dying and this jackass didn’t think that was important enough information to pass on.”

Scott and Isaac both look to Derek but neither of them say anything, just wait for him to explain.

“The trees, the- everything in the northwest corner of the preserve is dying. I noticed when I was here before.”

“You mean before you abandoned everybody for the second time?” Isaac asks. It’s not the meanest thing he’s ever said to him and it’s probably a lot nicer than he deserves, but it still makes him feel defensive.

“I was doing everyone a favor,” Derek shoots back.

Isaac shakes his head as his fingers work to tie a stitch. “Yeah well look how great that turned out.”

“Stop,” Scott cuts in. “We don’t have time for this. We have to figure this out now. I can’t- I can’t hurt anybody else.”

“It’s okay, Scott,” Stiles says.

Scott shakes his head. “No, it isn’t. I’m the alpha. I’m supposed to be protecting you, not hurting you.”

Derek wants to laugh. Not because it’s funny but because it’s really not. Because ten years ago he was the alpha. Because ten years ago he was having the exact same crisis. He couldn’t save Boyd and he couldn’t save Erica and the only way to save Cora was to not be the alpha. Because ten years ago, Derek should have protected these people but he couldn’t. Instead they found a way to save themselves and they’re still paying the price for Derek’s mistakes. He wants to laugh because ten years ago he thought the only way to protect them was to run away and he was wrong. He wants to laugh because even after taking a swipe at and almost killing his best friend, Scott is still a better alpha than Derek could have ever dreamed of being. Scott stayed. Scott stays. He’s never given up and he’s not going to.

“I want to help,” Derek says. It won’t make things right, it won’t change the past, but it’s all he has. He’ll do anything to make things okay for them right now, right here in this moment.

Nobody says anything. Isaac is looking at Scott, waiting for his cue. Scott is looking at Stiles, not for direction, but for confirmation maybe. Confirmation that they can trust Derek or maybe just confirmation that Stiles is okay with him being here. Stiles is looking at his feet.

Finally Scott breaks the silence. “Okay. You can start by telling us about the preserve.”

So Derek does. He tells them about the day he first noticed the trees were dying and all the days he spent looking for the source of the problem and all the research he did. He tells them everything. Every little detail he can think of whether or not it seems important.

When he’s done, Isaac asks, “What do dead trees have to do with what’s happening now?”

“I don’t know,” Derek admits.

“It can’t be a coincidence,” Scott says. “We need to check it out. Stiles, call Malia. Isaac, you and Kira check out the nemeton again.”

“What about you?” Isaac asks.

“I’m not going anywhere. I can’t risk hurting someone again. The mountain ash in here is keeping me from losing control. You guys are going to have to do this without me.”

—-

Isaac and Kira head out to the nemeton, while Derek leads Stiles out to the northwest corner of the preserve. Stiles is silent the whole time. Derek remembers a time long ago when he would have given his left arm for Stiles to be silent but now he hates it. It feels wrong. The silence is loaded with all the things between them. All the ways Derek fucked up and all the ways Stiles hates him for it.

A couple miles in Malia catches up with them. Stiles fills her in on the preserve. She doesn’t comment on the awkward tension in the air around them. It doesn’t take long to get to where the vegetation is being affected. The area of dead trees has grown exponentially since Derek was here just weeks ago. About half a mile into the affected area, something stops Derek in his tracks. It’s not a sound and it’s not a scent. It’s a feeling, something radiating from within. He’s not the only one. Malia has stopped too, her head tilted and face scrunched up in confusion.

“What is it?” Stiles whispers.

“I don’t think we’re alone,” Malia answers.

Derek doesn’t know how she came to that conclusion but as soon as she says it, he knows she’s right. He can feel it, like a blinking dot on a map. There’s somebody else there, just north of them. For a second, he thinks it must be Isaac and Kira but the nemeton isn’t anywhere near this part of the forest. 

Derek and Malia exchange a glance then start to move in that direction quietly. Stiles follows behind them, not as stealthily, but far quieter than anything he could have pulled off when he was a teenager.

It’s not long till Derek sees it: a figure kneeling in a small clearing, surrounded by scattered candles that are dancing in the dark. There’s noise coming from the bent-over form, a soft chanting in a language Derek doesn’t recognize. There’s an electricity in the air and Derek can actually feel the life being pulled out of the earth, can feel the trees being sucked dry.

The chanting stops and the figure’s head shoots up, but it stays kneeling, hands planted firmly on the ground.

“Who’s there?” the figure calls out and Derek knows that voice, Derek has heard that voice, has listened to it on his voicemail for weeks upon weeks now.

“Gene?” he asks, stepping out into the small clearing, Malia and Stiles following just behind.

Gene sighs. “Mr. Hale. What are you doing here?”

Stiles looks at Derek, incredulous. “Another darach?”

Gene laughs. “Darach? No. To be a darach you have to be an emissary. To be an emissary you have to have a pack. Do you see any wolves here? What I am is far more sinister.”

Stiles does not look impressed. “Okay, buddy, sure. Wanna explain what the hell-”

He drops to his knees, hands clutching his head, wincing in pain. Derek is at his side in an instant. He tries to draw some of the pain out but it’s too much. It doesn’t ebb.

Gene has planted his hands more firmly on the ground. The flames from the candles dance wildly and the air feels even drier.

“You didn’t just shut off the power to the nemeton,” Gene yells. “You protected it. I can’t get anywhere near it. I can’t even find it.”

Stiles pulse is racing now. Derek keeps trying to draw the pain but everything he draws is just replaced with new pain. He’s not helping at all. It’s like he’s doing nothing.

“Do you have any idea how special this place is?” Gene goes on. “You kids, you don’t deserve this. You have no idea, no idea, what you’ve-”

Gene is cut off by a swift kick to the face from Malia. He falls back, knocked unconscious. The second his hands leave the ground, Stiles sags in relief. The candles flicker out and the electricity in the air fizzles out.

Malia looks back to where Derek and Stiles are still hunched over on the ground, staring up at her. She shrugs. “What? It worked.”

Stiles starts laughing and slumps over to lay on his back in the dirt.

“That was really anticlimactic,” he says, then passes out.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've finally made it to the end! Thank you so so so so very much for reading, for leaving kudos, for all of the wonderful comments. I was really hesitant about posting a WIP but y'all made it a really nice experience and I'm so grateful to have had such lovely people motivating me to finish this damn story. I hope it doesn't disappoint you. <3
> 
> Also: I did something a little different with this chapter. It starts out with a flashback from Stiles' perspective (in italics) and then goes back into the story from Derek's perspective. It should (?) be obvious but just incase it isn't, I wanted to let you know.
> 
> Again, thank you so much! And as always, you can come say hi to me on [tumblr!](http://pickasalvatore.tumblr.com/)

_Stiles is sitting on the steps leading up to the Hale house porch. It’s an overcast day but it’s not going to rain. There’s no humidity in the air. The clouds are just passing through, on their way to pour down a storm on someone else. It’s fitting, Stiles thinks. Three months ago the clouds would’ve opened up and released a deluge over Beacon Hills- mother nature’s way of washing away any and all evidence of a bloody battle amongst the supernatural entities that used to find themselves in this town._

_But Beacon Hills doesn’t have any evidence to cover up. Not anymore. It’s been three months since they shut the power to the nemeton off, three months since the supernatural last bothered the town, three months of peace for the McCall Pack and Stiles fucking hates it._

_He’s happy nobody’s dying and the pack is safe, his father is safe. He’s happy the town is no longer a blinking light on the supernatural map drawing trouble in. He’s happy. Except for the fact that he’s not. Because the pack is incomplete. It’s missing one very important member and nobody else is willing to admit what they all know deep down- Derek Hale is dead._

_Stiles is tracing the grooves in the step he’s sitting on with the pads of his fingers when a car pulls up. He looks up, surprised that anybody else would bother coming out to a dilapidated house in the middle of a forest._

_“Thought I’d find you here,” Allison says as she gets out of her car to join him on the steps._

_Stiles goes back to tracing the grooves when she sits down next to him._

_“Why were you looking?” he asks._

_Allison sighs but doesn’t answer. She leans back on her elbows and stares up at the cloudy sky._

_“Do you think we did the right thing?” she asks after a few minutes._

_Stiles looks at her. “Which time?”_

_“With the nemeton,” she clarifies._

_“Didn’t really have a choice, did we?”_

_Allison looks back at him and they stay like that, eyes locked on each other, for a few seconds, and Stiles can feel it- Allison knows they did the right thing but somehow she regrets it, just like he does. There’s something tugging at her the way it’s tugging at him- a question in the back of his mind, screaming Is this really over? Is this really how it all ends? Just like that?_

_“I can still feel it,” Allison says. “Before it was like a heaviness on my heart, like something was weighing it down but now…”_

_“It’s like something’s pulling at it,” Stiles finishes and she nods._

_It makes sense. When they woke the nemeton, they had to give a piece of themselves- that was the heaviness, the thing that was missing. To shut it off, they had to take that piece back, but they also had to do something with all of the extra power the nemeton gained since their sacrifice- all the bloodshed that sustained it before they shut it off. That was too much power for any one person, or even three, to hold, so they rerouted it into the preserve. That’s what they feel pulling at them, Stiles thinks. Everything growing in the preserve is tied to them by an invisible string, and all those strings tug at them. They’ll feel it for the rest of their lives. Stiles tries to convince himself that it’s better than having a darkness around their hearts forever, but he’s pretty sure it doesn’t matter at this point. After everything they’ve been through, everyone they’ve lost, they all carry a permanent darkness with them anyway._

_Allison leans in to him and rests her head on his shoulder. It should be weird. They’ve never been close, they’re barely even friends, and this is the first time, outside of some supernatural crisis, that it’s just the two of them. But it’s comfortable. It feels easy in a way it doesn’t with anyone else right now. Allison is probably the only person in the world that resents Derek Hale just as much as Stiles does so he doesn’t feel like he’s on edge waiting for her to say something that’s supposed to be comforting or supportive about what a good guy he was. Stiles isn’t waiting for her to say anything hopeful about how maybe Derek’s fine, maybe he’s just traveling or visiting Cora, maybe he’ll be back tomorrow and everything will be fine. Stiles isn’t holding his breath, waiting for him to return, and neither is Allison._

_“I spent most of the summer before sophomore year with him, helping him look for Erica and Boyd” Stiles says, looking back at the Hale house, at what’s left of it._

_Allison follows his gaze back to the house, then nods. “Isaac told me.”_

_Stiles rolls his eyes. “I knew he couldn’t keep a secret.”_

_“Was it supposed to be a secret?”_

_Stiles considers this. He supposes it wasn’t. It’s not like Derek ever threw him up against a wall and told him to keep his mouth shut. He’s sure Derek would have if he wanted to. But he didn’t. It was more like an unspoken understanding on both their parts. Stiles was helping him because he had nothing else to do. Scott was in summer school and on a mission to become a better version of himself. Allison was in France. Lydia wasn’t really his friend yet and even if she was, she was busy using unsuspecting boys as a distraction to get over Jackson. Isaac knew Stiles was helping Derek but pretended like he didn’t. Stiles still isn’t sure if that was his own decision or a threat from Derek. Maybe a little bit of both. And Derek was letting Stiles help because he needed him. Derek needed Stiles. But they never said anything about it- not when it started, not when it was happening, and certainly not after._

_“I guess it doesn’t really matter now,” Stiles decides._

_“Guess not,” Allison agrees. She wraps her arms around her knees and rests her chin on them._

_They sit in silence while Stiles thinks about Derek and how much he hates him. He thinks about the t-shirts he has shoved in the back of his closet, the ones that Derek casually threw in Stiles’ hamper, like it was no big deal, like they were roommates or even partners. Like it was something they did all the time- stayed up all night together, then crashed for a few hours in the morning, and piled their dirty laundry to be done together. But then, they did do it all the time. At least that summer they did._

_He thinks about the first and only time he found Derek asleep in his bed, about how he was torn between waking him up with an obnoxiously loud noise and covering him with a blanket, maybe even laying down next to him. He thinks about how ultimately he did nothing- just went back downstairs to get food and how, when he came back up, Derek was gone._

_He thinks about all the time they spent in Derek’s stupid soccer-mom car and the few times Stiles actually got a real genuine smile out of him. He thinks about the way Derek would mouth the words to every single song that came on the radio but never actually sing them and the way that Derek refused to eat curly fries but would suck down two chocolate shakes in under five minutes._

_He thinks about the way they became comfortable in each other’s presence, the way their relationship shifted from antagonism, to begrudging acceptance, to… to what? Allies? Friends? Stiles knows the feelings he started to develop - whatever they were - were one-sided. He knows that Derek didn’t think of him that way, but he also knows that there was something more between them. He knows he had a relationship with Derek that the rest of the pack didn’t, even if he can’t define what exactly it was._

_But none of that matters now because Derek is gone. He left without saying goodbye and then he refused to answer Stiles’ calls, refused to respond to his text messages, refused to even acknowledge that Stiles was a person he used to know, used to spend days upon days with. And then he went and fell out of existence. And Stiles hates him for it. He actually hates him. He can barely contain it, feels like he’s actually going to burst at the seams from it. So he does the only thing he can think of. He stands up abruptly and walks over to his car._

_“Where are you going?” Allison asks, moving to her feet._

_He yanks open the back of his jeep and pulls out the sledgehammer he purposefully brought, but never thought he’d actually use, then slams the jeep closed and walks back over to the house. He walks past Allison, ignoring the concerned look on her face and the questions he can see forming on the tip of her tongue. He goes up the steps and swings the sledgehammer straight into the anterior wall. It makes a giant hole but doesn’t do much else, so he swings it again and again and again until the wall starts to crumble and the structure it was supporting looks like it’s going to collapse in on him._

_He steps back and takes a huge, shaky breath. “I hate him,” he says quietly but still loud enough for Allison to hear._

_Allison comes up to stand next to him but doesn’t argue. This is why Stiles is glad she’s here. She knows Derek’s not coming back but she’s not going to pretend like he was something greater than he was. Allison is just going to stand here on this porch with Stiles, silently acknowledging that Derek Hale is - was - an asshole that couldn’t even be bothered to say goodbye, an asshole that always found trouble, the kind of trouble that probably got him killed. Derek Hale was an asshole and Allison isn’t going to pretend otherwise and Stiles is so grateful for that because he really doesn’t think he can take one more person glorifying the dead._

_Allison takes the sledgehammer from him and walks into the house. Stiles follows her as she goes up the stairs and to the farthest corner of the second story- a room where the roof is completely gone._

_“My aunt died in this house,” Allison says. “And my mother- she actually killed herself because of some stupid code.”_

_She takes the sledgehammer and swings it into a wall that’s barely standing to begin with. Stiles watches as she strikes the wall over and over until it’s nothing but a pile of dust and firewood. When she’s done, she runs the back of her hand across her forehead._

_“I hate werewolves,” she says and hands the sledgehammer back to him._

_They take turns knocking down pieces of the house and return the next day with better tools and equipment. They unleash all of their anger on the house- every unfair thing that’s happened to them in the past couple of years, every instance that forced them to be older than they are, every loss they’ve endured, every impossible decision they’ve made, all of it. They pour their sweat and tears into tearing down something that was once probably beautiful and full of life but now only reminds them of everything they can never get back. It takes them three weeks to tear the structure apart and clear it all away and when it’s done, when there’s nothing left to channel their pain into, they channel it into each other. And then they pretend like everything’s okay. And sometimes it is, but mostly they’re just pretending._

—-

Stiles doesn’t wake up until they’re back at the animal clinic. When he does, him and Scott agree that whatever was happening- it was because of Gene, that they both felt relief as soon as Malia stopped him. They're not back to normal but they will be eventually and as long as they keep Gene from going back out there and performing whatever ritual he was using, everything should be okay. It turns out Gene is just an everyday criminal who used to run with a pack in Colorado before they realized all he was after was power. He has several outstanding warrants all across the country that will keep him locked up for the rest of his life so they don't have to worry about doing anything with him, besides turning him in.

Derek wonders if the summer camp for underprivileged kids was just a cover or if he really was going to start one and turn all the children into evil power-seeking satan-spawns. He decides he’d rather not know.

The sun is starting to come up by the time they’ve handed Gene off to the police and gotten everything squared away. Stiles says bye to Isaac, then hugs Scott tightly. He tell hims he loves him then starts walking back to his car. Derek goes to follow him. Without even turning around Stiles says, “Do not follow me. I don’t ever want to see you again.”

Derek wants to protest, wants to run after him, wants to do something, anything, to make Stiles forgive him, make him understand how sorry he is. But he doesn’t know how. He watches Stiles get in his car and drive away and for the first time he understands what it feels like to be the one left behind. He feels frozen, stuck in place and unsure of what to do next.

Scott puts a hand on his shoulder. “Come on. You can sleep on my couch.”

They don’t talk on the way back to Scott’s place and as soon as they get there, Scott tosses a blanket to Derek then basically crashes into his own bed and passes out. Derek’s sure he’s not going to be able to fall asleep, not after everything that’s happened, but he lies down anyway. He’s out before he even has a chance to replay the last twenty-four hours in his head.

When he wakes up, Scott is already up. He’s sitting at his kitchen table drinking coffee and highlighting a text book.

He glances up at Derek, then says, “Do you want to get right into it or do you want some coffee first?”

“Coffee,” Derek answers. Then, “Get right into what?”

“How you’re in love with Stiles and he wants nothing to do with you.”

Derek sighs as he pours himself a cup of coffee. He really doesn’t want to talk about it but if anyone can help him figure out what to do next - whether that be give up and leave Stiles alone forever or grovel at his feet - it’s probably Scott. So he sits down across from him.

“I fucked up,” Derek admits.

“Which time?”

Derek glares.

Scott grins.

“I can’t fix this, can I?” Derek asks.

Scott takes a sip of coffee, then clears his throat. He’s very careful when he asks, “Do you want to?”

“Yes,” Derek answers without hesitation.

“Then why’d you leave?”

Derek considers this. He didn’t really put much thought into leaving- just made the decision and then dwelled on how he felt after he did it. He thought there would be relief and everything would go back to normal, but it didn’t. It just felt like he was walking through a fog all of the time, like he was detached from any and every thing that ever meant something to him. Even Cora felt far away. He felt far away.

But why he left in the first place- that’s different. It all comes down to the moment he realized he was completely in love with Stiles and that terrified him. It terrified him that he could come to care that deeply about another person but more importantly it terrified him that it was Stiles- that Stiles could have that much power over him again. It stills terrifies him.

“I was scared,” Derek admits.

Scott shakes his head. “I mean the first time. Why’d you leave ten years ago?”

Derek works his jaw, trying to figure out how to tell Scott that he left because he was scared then too, for different reasons, sure, but scared nonetheless.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Scott says. “But if you want Stiles to forgive you, you’re going to have to tell him.”

Derek nods. Scott is right.

Before he leaves to go talk to Stiles he says, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Scott asks.

“Stiles isn’t the only one I left,” Derek says.

—- 

Derek stands outside of Stiles’ building for a full twenty minutes before he works up the nerve to actually go in. When he finally does, the guy at the front desk greets him and waves him up.

At least Stiles hasn’t take him off the approved-visitors list yet. That’s something.

When he gets to Stiles’ floor he takes another five minutes before he actually gets off the elevator- just keeps pushing the button to keep the doors open. Outside of Stiles’ apartment he can hear Stiles and Allison talking inside. He knows he shouldn’t listen but he’s not that good of a person- he wants to have an idea of what kind of mood Stiles is going to be in when he finds Derek at his door. So he tunes in and starts pacing back and forth in the hallway.

Derek listens as they talk about scheduling for Addie for the next five minutes - who’s going to pick her up and drop her off when and where, whether or not they’re both going to go to parent conferences, etc. - until everything’s figured out. There’s a moment of silence before Allison asks, “So is Derek staying for good this time?”

Derek sucks a deep breath in, waiting for Stiles’ reaction to his name, waiting to find out if he should turn around and leave right now or actually knock on the door.

“I don’t know,” Stiles says. “Why don’t you ask him? He’s been standing outside the door for the last five minutes.”

Derek panics, debates running his ass down the back stairwell and pretending like he was never here, like Stiles was wrong. But that would be running away again, and that is the complete opposite of what he’s trying to accomplish here so instead he musters up every ounce of courage he has and knocks on the door.

He hears footsteps across the floor and then the front door is opening and he’s face-to-face with Stiles.

“I thought I told you I never wanted to see you again,” Stiles says, face blank.

Derek rubs the back of his neck. “I was hoping that was hyperbole.”

“It wasn’t.”

Stiles starts to close the door but Derek puts his hand against it, holding it open. “Wait.”

Stiles stares at him, eyebrows raised, waiting for Derek to say something but Derek doesn’t know what to say. He hadn’t really thought about what he would say. He didn’t think he’d actually make it this far, wasn’t sure Stiles would even open the door for him.

When he doesn’t say anything, Stiles uses more force to push it closed against the weight of Derek’s hand. Derek still doesn’t know what to say but he knows he can’t let Stiles close the door, that if he does, he’ll probably never get this chance again so he blurts out the only thing he can think of.

“You were my anchor.”

Stiles stops dead in his tracks. He looks behind him, presumably at where Allison is still sitting, then steps out into the hallway and closes the door behind him. He crosses his arms over his chest and looks at Derek expectantly.

Derek licks his lips, trying to find the right words to explain. He doesn’t have the right words though so he just tells Stiles the truth.

“My anchor was always anger. That’s what Peter taught me and it worked. It worked for a long time. And then it didn’t. Or maybe it did. I don’t really know.”

He looks at the floor trying to figure out how to explain something he’s not even sure he understands himself.

“All I know is that one day my anchor was anger and then it wasn’t. It was you. Or your humanity. I’m not sure there’s even a difference anymore. But that’s not the point. The point is you were my anchor and then I - we - almost lost you.”

Derek’s hands start to shake as he recalls what happened when the nogitsune was inside of Stiles and Stiles was nowhere to be found.

“I was terrified we’d never get you back, that we’d have to kill you. And I couldn’t- I didn’t-.” Derek searches for a way to explain but he comes up with nothing. There’s no way to explain a feeling like that- that soul-clenching, heart-wrenching, stomach-bottoming-out fear of losing something that means so much to you.

“So I ran,” he says.

Stiles doesn’t say anything, just stands there with his arms defensively crossed in front of him, staring at Derek.

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” Derek tries to explain. “And then when I came back here you made me fall in love with you and that’s never worked out too well for me.”

“So you ran,” Stiles says.

“So I ran,” Derek confirms.

“Okay,” Stiles say. He nods his head once, then turns around and opens the door to go back inside.

Derek watches him, confused, unsure of what’s happening. He’s said more words in the last five minutes than he has in the last ten years combined, basically poured his heart out and Stiles barely even acknowledged it.

Stiles notices the look on Derek’s face and says, “I appreciate you coming here to tell me all of that. I’m sure it was hard for you but it doesn’t change anything. You’re still the guy who runs.”

“I’m not going to do that anymore. I’m here now because I want to be with you. I want to stay.”

Stiles rubs his eyes. “Derek, I thought you were dead for nine years because you couldn’t be bothered to pick up a phone and let somebody know you were okay. Do you have any idea what that felt like?”

Derek hangs his head. He knows he messed up, knows that dropping off the face of the earth was one of the most selfish decisions he’s ever made but it sounds so much worse coming out of Stiles’ mouth. 

“And you know what?” Stiles continues. “I don’t even blame you for Christmas. That one’s on me. I knew better. But my kid didn’t.”

Derek wishes the floor would open up and swallow him whole. He knows he hurt Stiles, and even the rest of the pack, but he’s been actively avoiding thinking about what him leaving did to Addie. Abandoning a child is a new low, even for him.

“Goodbye, Derek. Maybe we’ll see you around.”

Stiles closes the door and Derek is left all alone in the hallway, hoping Stiles will change his mind and pull Derek inside.

—-

Stiles doesn’t change his mind. He’s less angry, less cold towards Derek, but he doesn’t change his mind, still keeps a certain amount of distance, keeps himself closed off from Derek. But Derek doesn’t leave Beacon Hills, not this time. There’s a small part of him that’s hoping one day Stiles will wake up and decide that all is forgiven, that he wants to be with Derek too.

Even though things are vastly different between him and Stiles, even though it feels like things will never go back to how they used to be, Beacon Hills still feels like home. And that used to be the problem- it was comfortable and full of people that he actually cared about when all he wanted was to be detached from anything that actually mattered, that way he’d never feel the crushing weight of loss again. He thinks maybe that’s why he burned all his bridges- because the only way to stop wanting to go home so badly was to make sure home didn’t exist anymore.

Now, home is all Derek can think about. And home is Beacon Hills. Even if he only gets to see Stiles when they happen to be in the same place at the same time. It could be worse though. Stiles could be actively avoiding Derek. He could refuse to be in the same room as Derek, could ban Derek from his apartment, even when the rest of the pack is there. He could ban Derek from seeing Addie altogether and Derek wouldn’t blame him for it. But Stiles doesn’t do any of these things. He lets Derek exist in his space and is perfectly civil towards him and Derek is grateful to get even that tiny bit of Stiles.

But he also fucking hates it. Really fucking hates it. Because it’s not Stiles. It’s not the Stiles he knew and it’s not the relationship they had- not even in the beginning when all they did was argue and antagonize each other. He wishes Stiles would hold a grudge and try to freeze Derek out. He wishes Stiles would say hurtful things and try to get under his skin. He wishes Stiles would feel enough emotion about him to at least look at him with disdain. He hates this cordial crap.

But he accepts it. He accepts it for an entire year. An entire year of holding back and not reaching out to touch Stiles; of biting his tongue when he wants to make a sarcastic comment, one he knows will rile Stiles up; of trying to prove that he’s not going to run again, all while trying to respect Stiles’ wishes; an entire year of slowly losing any hope that he could actually have a life with Stiles and not just near him.

It’s not ideal but it’s better than nothing and he still has the rest of the pack. His relationship with Scott is better than it’s ever been and he actually has one with Isaac. Every Tuesday night he plays poker with Parrish and Malia; and at least once a month he gets lunch with Kira. One time Allison even asked him to babysit Addie for her. When he got to her apartment, she glared at him for a full thirty seconds before opening her mouth. Derek was ready for a speech about how she would hunt him down and kill him if he ever left without saying goodbye again, but all she did was tell him there was leftover spaghetti in the fridge for dinner and then, before walking out the door, thanked him for the silver arrow he left her on Christmas. Derek is pretty sure it’s the closest to an acceptance of his apology he’ll ever get from her, and he’ll take it. He never expected Allison Argent to ever be okay breathing the same air as him, let alone actually thanking him for something he did.

So life in Beacon Hills isn’t perfect but it’s good. It’s better than it ever was in New York and he has a life that he’s actually living- one with friends and a pack and he doesn’t get to see his sister as often as he used to but it’s probably better for her not to have to worry about him all of the time anyway. And it’s home. Beacon Hills is home.

It’s a chilly evening in February - the kind that makes you think maybe winter is coming to an end and spring is about to show its face before white flakes start to flutter down from the sky and wrap the world in their embrace - when he runs into Stiles outside the coffee shop in the middle of town.

Derek has been back in Beacon Hills for a year but this is the first time he’s actually ran into Stiles outside of some gathering they’re both expected to be at and he doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know if he should pretend he didn’t see him or if he should go up to him or just do that awkward wave and smile where they acknowledge each other but pretend like they barely know each other, like Stiles hasn’t gotten inside him in more ways than one. He’s saved from having to figure it out when Stiles gives him a nod of acknowledgement, then continues to go on his way. Derek returns the nod with a small wave and a smile and is about to let Stiles keep walking but every fiber of his being is screaming that this can’t be it, this can’t be all they are now- just two people passing each other on the street, like they could be anybody, like they haven’t saved each other’s lives several times over, like they haven’t gone to hell and back with and for each other, like they’re nothing more than acquaintances. Derek can’t take it anymore. He’s tried to give Stiles’ space but it’s been a year and he can’t do it anymore. Stiles is either going to let him back in or he’s going to hate him but no more of this neutral barely acquaintances bullshit. He can’t do it.

He takes a deep breath and steps in front of Stiles, blocking his path. Stiles startles but doesn’t say anything. He looks at Derek and for the first time in a year, Derek actually sees something in his eyes, a tiny flicker of the flame that used to dance so wildly every time he looked at Derek. It’s small but it’s there and that’s something. It’s overwhelming after so many months of nothing and it leaves Derek breathless, at a complete loss for words. He opens his mouth, hoping something - anything - will come out, desperate not to lose this moment, but all sound is caught in his throat. He swallows around the lump there, trying to gain some sort of composure, but it’s impossible when Stiles is looking at him, actually looking at him.

Stiles’ eyes are still dancing, his gaze locked on Derek. The corner of his mouth ticks up when he says, “Everything okay, buddy?”

And it’s so much more than anything Stiles has said to him in recent memory. It’s filled with so much more life and it’s so much easier, so much more Stiles that all Derek can get out is “I miss you.”

The smile falls right off Stiles’ face but he doesn’t tear his gaze away from Derek. His chest rises with a deep breath in, then falls with an exhalation. Derek can feel his own heart racing, can hear Stiles’ pounding and the silence between them is driving him crazy but he’s afraid to break it, afraid to shatter this moment, this fragile moment where the world is standing still and all that exists is him and Stiles and the space between them, the space between them that feels like an ocean, too wide and too treacherous to cross, but too powerful to ignore. He feels helpless, helpless but not hopeless because Stiles is still staring right back at him, feet glued to the floor, frozen in time with him, and Derek knows it’s impossible but it feels like everything is happening in slow motion when Stiles mouth falls open only to click shut again, then finally tears his eyes off Derek to look at the ground. Derek feels his stomach bottom out as Stiles’ eyes shift off of him and he’s not sure he’s ever going to be able to breathe again, not without Stiles looking at him, not if that flame in his eyes is gone, and Derek has been hurt before, has had every ounce of hope sucked right out of him before but nothing - nothing - has ever left him feeling as empty as this moment, as having Stiles close enough to touch but still a world away, and somehow pulling even farther away and Derek knows he’s not going to die from this but he feels like it anyway and his hands are shaking and his knees feel like they’re going to buckle beneath him but he forces himself to stay upright, to accept Stiles’ decision, to respect it, no matter how much it’s tearing him apart.

Stiles looks back up and Derek tries to smile, tries to let Stiles know it’s okay, that he gets it and he doesn’t blame him. Stiles licks his lips, then inhales sharply and blows out a shaky breath. The warmth from his exhalation creates a fog in front of his mouth and that’s what Derek is focusing on - the visible puff of air - when Stiles surges forward and presses his mouth against Derek’s. Derek is so surprised that it actually knocks him back a step. Stiles goes with him, his hands finding their way to the back of Derek’s head and Derek is filled with warmth instantly. He melts into it and for the first time in a long time everything feels right, like pieces of a puzzle falling into place. He feels the world around them start to turn again, feels life carrying on and people moving by but it feels far away, like they’re inside their very own snow globe, white flurries dancing around them, with nothing else to do but stay in this moment forever, his arms wrapped around Stiles, while the rest of the world passes them by.

Stiles pulls back a few inches but Derek doesn’t loosen his grip. There’s a soft smile on his lips and the flames are there in his eyes burning brightly when he says, “I’m still really mad at you.”

Derek nudges Stiles’ nose with the tip of his own. “I know,” he whispers.

And he does but he also knows that he’s going to spend the rest of his life making it up to Stiles because what he’s figured out - what’s he probably known all along but was too stubborn to admit - is that Stiles is his family. He’s his one little piece of happiness. He’s the person that Derek could never not choose because he never chose him in the first place. Stiles just showed up one day and carved out a space for himself and no matter what Derek’s done he can’t get rid of him. And he doesn’t want to. Because he’s family. Stiles is his family.

And Derek spends the rest of his life making sure Stiles knows it.


End file.
